Children

July 9, 2008
I dream I am in bed in my parent’s house, and sitting on the bed, in a blue shirt, is a boy who looks like me. The boy doesn’t want to be there; he is being compelled somehow and he wants to leave to do something else with his brother. I believe that the boy is a younger version of me and I want him to stay. After a few moments, when he feels he has discharged his duty, he gets up and runs away. I try to protest, but I can make no sound.

April 11, 1999
I dream I am living in a luxury apartment building and I hear a scream and sirens. I look out the window and see that an obese woman has fallen on a child. The neighbors have the situation in hand, but I regret not rushing down there because I took a first aid course and I know how to roll somebody off another person. I note that the woman and child are bound together in a kind of bio-slime, and they have to be separated at a local hospital.

April 29, 1994
I dream I go into my child’s bedroom and there’s a baby in there with a tiny head attached to a long, skinny neck. I play with the baby, holding it over my head like Kunta Kinte, and I tell it that “kambe balongo” means “river” and “ko” means “drum.” The baby doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I sing a bit and try to support the baby’s little head, because I’m afraid it’s going to be hurt.