I am laying in my bedroom.  The trees scrape the window above my head.  The screeching is eerily soft.  I pull the covers toward my eyes.  I know that it is only trees.  Furthermore, I attempt to console myself with the knowledge that am on the second floor.  Still a deep foreboding fills me.  I begin to close my eyes.  Just before the world turns to black a hand smashes through the glass.  I sit up and scream.  For months I have this dream.  Each night I awake screaming.

Isaac loves telling us about dreams.  As an aside, if you also love telling people about dreams, stop.  It is boring.  I am sorry.  I do not like to have to tell you this. 

Mainly, dream retellings are boring because they are your brain's nonsense.  Therefore, they are hard to describe.  Therefore, they are boring to listen to.  There are exceptions. 

Very few exceptions. 

If your love one loves to tell you about dreams, pretend that you want them to read this post for other reasons.  "Tyler is so handsome, you must read this," would be one believable excuse that comes to mind.  There are countless others.

Isaac is the worst offender that I have ever met.  His retelling of dreams is so meticulous that the retelling is longer than the dreaming.  The other day I overheard Belle tell Wendy excitedly, "Isaac has two dreams to tell you about!  You are so lucky!"  I laughed as I slid slowly away from the room.  

Isaac has a recurring nightmare.  It is his scariest dream ever.  I feature prominently in it.


Isaac: I don't know what a kwalt is beloved father

Me:  CLOSE THE KWALT!  I bellow.  My face contorts with rage.

And so on.  Isaac not understanding what I mean by kwalt, me enraged by his lack of understanding.  Finally, it culminates with me looking at him like he is stupid, storming across the room and slamming the door as a fire sweeps toward us. 

Isaac tells us this nightmare in tears.  (What? This retelling was boring, well, case in point then?  What? This was not boring?  Well, exception to the rule then.  I love it when I am right no matter what.  This really only happens when I am the one writing the post.)  He retells us the nightmare constantly.  He says he is really afraid of having the dream again.  It gives you a real sense of accomplishment being the cause of your sweet tender child's nightmares.

I tell him if he has it again he can just shut the door when I tell him to shut the kwalt.  


"Well, I told you to shut the kwalt.  You didn't understand because it is a made up word, but then I shut the door.  So the door is the kwalt."  

He stares at me, "I don't think so, dad, that doesn't add up."  

"Ok, I reply, well, I shut the door because of the fire, right?"  I am trying to redeem myself.  I was mean, but there was an incoming fire.

"Yes, but I already knew about the fire.  Sophie told me about it."

"She did?"

"Yes, before she was murdered by the black mamba," he says nonchalantly.  This I think, is sort of how it is.  A black mamba kills his cousin, and it is such a nonevent that he doesn't mention it until retelling fifteen or so.  I tell him to close the kwalt because a fire is coming, and I am Satan.

From Brasilia, Brazil.  Such great city architecture.

Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer

closeup of Belle's awesome face:

Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer

BLUE LILY | Lifestyle Photographer | Salt Lake City, Utah