The dreamlife of fred

Sometimes when I watch Fred sleep I wish I could see what she is dreaming, which I suppose makes mothers creepy cause I can't imagine someone walking through my dreams. It reminds me of that scene in Peter Pan where the mother tidies away her children's thoughts...ugh. Martin and I read that to Fred in utero and both of us kind of freaked out about this idea of mothers. Turns out it's freaky accurate, though I can't actually get in there to rummage around.

Anyway, Fred just came to me stroking a pink feather, and told me her dream:

"I got into the cot and hugged Una and she was dying. She waved but she was dying. And I put her in the fire and you watched me pull her out again and she was alive again."

I was writing an article about death and repetition in children's literature at the time. Spooky.

Hmm...

"The voice in my head tells me not to do it, but I'm going to do it anyway." Fred, aged 4, out of the blue in the car.

Maybe she's being haunted.