Dreamland.

        My eyes open, the morning light pouring in through the windows opposite of my bed. I'm aware of the warm bodies on either side of me, my children asleep surrounding me. Our bodies are close, our breathing synchronized, our minds could not be further apart. Each dreaming a different dream behind closed eyes. My dreams I don't recall upon waking, and I'm all the better because of that. Sadly, I know my dreams are not real. In their minds, a whimsical place in their minds, where cartoon characters sing silly tunes or adventures are had. I can merely speculate on what wonders are taking place, if I had to venture a guess, might be something like this: Acres and acres of bright colors, sing-a-long songs echo in the valley of Gumdrop Mountain, hand in hand with a beloved baby doll through the Lollipop Forest, a magical place where no one grows up, and everything is wonderful. Oh to know the dreams of sleeping children.

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