It’s amazing how you seem to remember all your dreams. This morning you dreamt of how we forgot Cheryl’s birthday because we were busy preparing for her wedding, and in the background a cat that had eyes set too close together (one of them fell out and got stuck near the other eye, you said) turned into a primary one student you teach.
I told you how I had to do a short takeoff on a 747 that had controls like an automatic car (the gears at least), and that I had to veer into a field in the middle of a running track.
It’s heavenly watching you sleep. I wake up each morning with a tingling anticipation of the new adventures you had while your eyes were shut.