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She was asking the kids what they’d dreamed of last night, and most of them couldn’t remember. But some had dreamed of flying or skating or driving their dad’s new car. My sister was really, really fat then her head fell off, it was great; the neighbour’s dog was at the window, he wanted in bad; there were snakes all over the place…
— And what about you, Ian?
— The same.
— The same as what?
— Same as always.
— Which is?
— I’m in my cage in the baby section at the supermarket.
— The what?
— Where parents go to adopt.
— Oh… Then what?
— Then this couple comes along and they throw me in their buggy with the broccoli and stuff, then the cashier stuffs me in a bag.
— Is the couple your parents?
— I guess. I don’t know. They don’t really have faces.
— Every night?
— Yeah.
— And have you told your parents about the dream?
— No.
— Why not?
— I don’t know.
— Guess.
— Because it’ll make them mad and then they’ll want to give me back.
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