I love dreams. I love talking about them. I love listening to other people relate their dreams to me, and analyzing what they might mean. So naturally I encourage my kids to tell me their dreams if they remember them.
Today, David came to me and said he dreamed something a long time ago, which in a 4-year-old’s chronology, could mean last night. In his dream, he said he was hungry, so he ate it. Here is the conversation after that point.
Me: “What is it you ate?”
David: “My dream.”
Me: “You ate your dream?”
Me: “What does a dream taste like?”
David: “Like chicken!” Of course it does. I should’ve known.