There is something about this broken night lark that is encouraging vivid dreams. I dreamt that I took the children to the North Pole and there was some sort of ride we were going on. I went through the gates first and they shut on me so I couldn’t get back to them and by the time the ride had finished and I’d got back to the children they had turned in to penguins and I couldn’t tell which were them and which were the other penguins. I can’t tell you how awful it was going around trying to talk to penguins to see if I could see any glint of recognition in their eyes because of course you wouldn’t have experienced that. But I have now.
I’m not sure what the dream means in the deeper sense but I think it stems from playing with the rubber ducks with Anton in the bath. Unintentionally we have amassed 6 of then in various sizes so I have craftily named them after us so I can see if he can work out through play his deeper feelings about welcoming Dante in to our brood. All I have worked out so far is that he sees mummy as a big fat duck who can’t be bothered to go swimming.
No wonder I turned them in to penguins.