Dear Diary, last night I dreamed that my precious Amelia was a changeling. It was too horrific. Some dastardly little troll or elf (or maybe even a fairy) had swapped my little lovely for a horrid little impostor. In my dream, I knew that Impostor Toddler was not my Amelia but no one would believe me (and for once, I was able to empathise with Angelina Jolie)… that is until my husband saw Impostor Toddler standing in a fire grate but not burning. Then he knew something was wrong.
Oh the trauma! My subconscious is clearly trying really hard to scar me for life.
I have deconstructed my dream as follows; too much Supernatural (if there is such a thing) mixed with Black Swan mixed with a chat with my brother about Orphan mixed with my daughter’s new found Chucky the demon dolly impersonation – aka Amelia the stubborn toddler who all of a sudden refuses to eat fruit and throws a strop in protest against pear – poor pear… poor me!
I guess that the side effect of my endless patience (call me Saint Andrea) is that my frustrations are brought to life in my subconscious and are manifested in dream form. I guess I can live with that… I do have a penchant for horror.