This is not about a dream.

This is about no dreams, or not remembering dreams, or about no time or energy (HB pronounces it En-gee) to write about dreams in the morning before they disappear like those stars you wrote about earlier. And how I am afriad that is a metaphor for my life and I am forgetting about my dreams? The other dreams, the life goal ones, not the ones you have while you're sleeping. Am I just hum-drumming through my life from one swearing-as-I-assemble-the-new-talking-soccer-goal moment to the next? Why do I let myself snap at the kids, yell at the kids, so that HB has to say things like, "Mama, you said that so loud that you accidentally hurt my ears." with his hands over his ears like some DSS poster child. There should be a caption under his sad little face saying something clever and thought-provoking about sticks and stones.
I do vaguely remember that the kids were in my dream last night. Which is kinda strange because I don't usually dream about them. But no details. Maybe it's for the best, I was probably just yelling at them about using too much soap when they wash their hands.