Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Broken Eggs on Fire

I'm in a house that is mine but feels like it should be my daughter's, Hillary's. Isaac is there, the dogs are there, a woman who is not my mother but plays the mother is there. I think the baby is there but I don't see her.

We are redecorating a book case for Lydia. Hillary is being sneaky about tissue paper patterns and scissors. I'm suddenly groggy sleepy and decide to take a nap. Hillary, comes out of the kitchen, feels the same as I do, but decides to take a shower.

The dog jumps on my face and grosses me out. There are orange pawprints all over the white carpet; it looks like powdered cheese. I go into the kitchen to see what he got into and find broken eggs on the floor.

Isaac yells from the other room, "Mom! Fire!" I run in to see flames coming up from the floor along the wall. I yell for Hillary to bring water from the dishes in the sink. I try the water from the small sink conveniently right there on the other wall. The flames are blue and when one goes out another pops up somewhere else, like the Whak a Mole game at a carnival arcade.

When I realize that someone left something burning downstairs and how groggy I was, I connect the two and know we are in HUGE danger. I yell, "Call 911! Get out! Get the dogs! Get the baby!" It is all so out of control I wake up. Broken eggs, burning house...very bad, something is very wrong somewhere.

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