After a lovely day at the Cystic Fibrosis walk, I fell asleep in the toy room.
I briefly skirted the real world to the feeling of my 10 month old grabbing my feet to stand.
Back into sleep, I was having a discussion, watching a movie, and generally experiencing a wonderful dream world.
Then, out of nowhere, a giant stepped on my chest, crushing me back to reality. Half way there the foot shrunk and my partially functioning senses told me the giant was my son and his foot was nestled on my privates as he attempted to scale my legs and torso.
Inexplicably I drifted back towards sleep as my dream world took a strange turn. My son was an explorer on a mountain, a grave look on his face as he peered out to decide which path to take next: climb, or turn back and go around.
He decided to climb.
As I bolted into wakefulness, only to drop into a groaning heap, several women, dressed as reporters and shoving mic’s into my face screamed at me for my stupid decision to go back to sleep.
And that’s how I woke up.
Photo by Jurvetson.