I Told Them to Dream Big
My 10 year-old son relayed to me a dream he had last night with exuberance this morning:
“Mom! I dreamed I invented a way to make a nacho volcano, with cheese lava. Only not the cheese sauce kind of cheese, the real cheese like I like. And I found a way to make the cheese react with something so it bubbled over like real lava and then I could save the people who got stuck on the chip mountain with more giant chips like, “IT’SOKAYYY! I’MCOMINGTOSAVEYOUUUUU!!” “
My mother of the year response:
“Well, um, that’s awesome, son!”
Subtext: (I guess.
I mean, probably somewhere some ten year-old was inventing world peace in his dreams last night, but a nacho volcano’s good too. Right on. Your subconscious was really working overtime on that one…)
Right near the end of the volcano story, the fifteen year-old stumbles out of her room, all bad-hair and eye-crusties, and she catches enough of the end to know the topic of conversation and join in:
“Last night I dreamed my job was shooting aesthetically pleasing wolves.”
Once I stop laughing:
“Not the ugly ones, though?”
“Like, with a camera?”
So, all you hot wolves and chip mountain dwellers, beware. Shit’s about to get real.