A Dream is a Wish Your Bladder Makes

He was in the bathroom patting at himself with a handful of tissue paper.

“Good morning,” I said.

He froze and looked up at me. “There was a toilet in my dream,” he said.

I looked at the toilet, and then at his wet pajamas. He was still trying to dry himself with the tissue.

“Take off you pants,” I told him, “and your underwear.”

“It’s on my shirt too,” he said, “and my skin. I need a bath.”

It was early and the rest of the house was still asleep. I had designs to rejoin them.

“You don’t need a bath,” I lied. “Come back to bed.”

We went back into the bedroom. I placed a towel over the wetness and placed his naked body upon it. “Go to sleep,” I whispered.

Time passed and the morning spread. I heard stirring from somewhere in the distance. Coffee beans were being ground and cartoons were turned on. There was the sound of running and a little boy’s voice telling the naked truth naked, “There was a toilet in my dream,” he said.

I fell asleep smiling.

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