Every night as we lie in the dark, waiting for sleep, The Birdy asks me what I'm dreaming about. Then, before I can answer, she fills in the blank. Usually it's something like this:
B: Mummy? Mummy? Mummy? Mummy? Ummmmmmmmm, what are you dreaming about?
Me: I'm dreaming about...
B: A BOUNCY CASTLE. Right? Right? Are you dreaming about a bouncy castle? And it's pink? And you can eat it because it's made of candy? And then there's a slide? And it's a rainbow? And it's made out of lollipop? So you can eat it, too? IS IT SPARKLY?
Me: Yes. Indeed. I AM dreaming about a sparkly pink edible bouncy castle! You win.
But last night, it went like this:
B: Mummy? Mummy? MUMMY? WHAT ARE YOU DREAMING ABOUT? A BOUNCY CASTLE? NO, YOU AREN'T. MUMMY? ARE YOU DREAMING ABOUT SILENCE?
B: IN HAWAII? ARE YOU DREAMING ABOUT SILENCE AND BEING IN HAWAII?
Me: Yes. AND a bouncy castle.
B: MUMMY. No. Not a bouncy castle. Just silence. In Hawaii.
Then she fell asleep and probably dreamed about an edible bouncy castle and The Bun lay awake for hours and hours like he does, tossing and turning and worrying. His teacher had loaned me a book about childhood anxiety called "Taming the Worry Dragon" and we'd started working through it and last night, as he tossed and turned and sweated, I said, "Honey, what's on your mind?" And he admitted that he was worrying.
"What are you worrrying about?" I said.
"Well," he said, "Mostly I'm worried about those dragons."
When I finally DID fall asleep, I did not dream about silence in Hawaii. Instead, I dreamed that I was making a movie about an orca/great white hybrid, which was basically a killer whale with a mouth the size of a small car and rows and rows of cartoonishly large shark teeth. The filiming of this movie, which I seemed to be in charge of, involved sitting in a tiny inflatable boat in the middle of the ocean in twenty-foot swells holding up my iPhone and hoping for the best. The movie starred -- drumrolll please -- MATT DILLON.
Matt Dillon's job was to swim across the set. He looked bored, which was impressive, because of the waves.
AND THEN MATT DILLON GOT EATEN BY THE SHORCA.
Analyze at will.
And yes, I've trademarked and copyrighted the word SHORCA* so if you steal it, you owe me a million dollars**, mkay?
Important Blog Update: Have managed to work the SHORCA into current middle-grade WIP. Yes, that's right. I did. And you thought I just blogged all day.
* This is not EXACTLY true, but close enough.