The girls and I are now in Wisconsin, having fled the fires of Santa Barbara for clean air, a real spring, and a shared bed.
For the past 2 nights, Ayay and I have been sleeping together in my bed. This is nothing new. A few times a week, Ayay sleeps with me on nights F is on call at the hospital. By now, I’ve gotten used to being punched in the stomach, kicked in the head, and even placed in a chokehold in between her ankles. Surprisingly, none of these things occurred last night. Last night was all about Ayay’s dreams, which were revealed to me as she talked in her sleep.
“IneedtogopottyIneedtogopottyIneedtogopotty,” she said frantically in her sleep. I then woke her up to see if she really did ned to go potty.
“No. But I’m thirsty,” she said. Here, have some water. Now you’ll need to go potty.
A couple of hours later I woke up to her saying,”Hmmm, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask my Mommy. She’s allergic to dogs.”
Hmm, so she wants a dog, perhaps? She has fallen in love with Isabelle, my mom’s new teacup poodle.
“I want vanilla ice cream with sprinkles on top,” she murmured as dawn approached. Aw, what a nice dream, nice dream, ice cream, ice cream…Can you hear the Radiohead song in your head, too? If only all dreams could be so pleasant.