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.