On Monday, 3B got up, walked out to the living room and assumed his usual prone position on the couch.

After coming over to say, “Good morning,” and tell him that I love him, I asked if he had any dreams.

“Yes. I dreamed I was Cleopatra.”

“What happened in your dream?”

“I was rolled up in a carpet, the ends were folded over like this and then tied shut with a rope. Then I was picked up and carried over someone’s shoulder into the palace to meet Julius Caesar.”


I’m dreaming in the wrong head.

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