Last night I dreamed my 6-year-old daughter ran a prison marathon wearing black patent leather heels. It was totally by accident; we stumbled upon the event while out for a walk, and she just started running. None of us stopped her because, well, she’s fast. She finished in under 30 minutes, and carried her Hello Kitty purse the whole way.
I don’t know if there’s really any kind of prison marathon, but there’s definitely one in my head. The race began with a train, and runners following the train through a desolate landscape. The runners were all pasty white half-dressed men. Except for my tiny caramel-colored fashionably-dressed Tyrant.
When the race was over, Hot Firefighter Husband and the Pterodactyl started walking away toward – home? I don’t know. I waited for my girl. She was tired! She changed shoes and put on her zebra-striped flashing rain boots, and then I decided I needed to photograph the moment FOR MY BLOG.
Do you see this, readers? Do you understand my dedication to you runs so deep that I immortalize moments that don’t even really occur?
Welcome to my dreams, peeps. Maybe gin does make you crazy after all.