‘’you wanna hear about my dream?’’ was the first non abusive sentence Summer spoke this morning, before that was a series of Jamaican abuse and teeth kissing for daring to wake her up for school.
‘’there was a robot with lasers and it was killing people’’
I’m not really listening we have 5 mins to get out the door ‘’thats nice put your shoes on’’
‘’he killed you, daddy and the dog...me and the cat were fine’’ I am listening now because she says this with a smile and I vividly remember hearing her laughing in her sleep last night – now I know why.
On the way to the bus stop she pauses and looks into the fog ‘’this looks just like my dream, the monster is coming mum, he has lasers for arms – everyone is going to die, people will be dead in rivers’’ The people at the bus stop shuffle away from us.
‘’what will we do when it comes for us mum?’’
‘’its ok, Dad will sort him out there is no need to worry about monsters’’ I like to bring up Part time dad in public places, I think it surprises people that one can have a mixed race child and have relationship with the father. It makes us seem modern and cultured rather than just another statistic. They don’t need to know he is a moron
‘’don’t be stupid mummy, Daddy would just save himself and the pub’’ now people know he is a moron.
All the way to school on the bus – Summer retells her dream at the perfect volume to ensure the whole bus is listening, as more and more people engage with her the more graphic she gets until she is wriggling on the floor gurgling showing how it will sound when the laser melts her belly.
No one is amused – they all look at me in disgust - how can this small innocent child imagine such horrific scenes.
‘’There is blood on the roads, there are zombies eating flesh and the only way I survive is by pretending I am a robot too and I must kill and lick the blood yum yum yum ‘’ I pull her down the school path as she screams and howls as the zombies in her mind are gnawing at school caretaker – who looks at her bemused as she whispers ‘’save yourself, save yourself ‘’ to him.
I chuck her into breakfast club and she strolls into a room full of children eating jam on toast – I admire the new reception kids and remember how that was Summer just last year.
I mention to the club leader as I head out the door –‘’ don’t entertain her if she offers to tell you about her dream’’. They know this could mean trouble, this could lead to an army of kids scared and literally wetting their pants, As I walk away I see the class turn to listen to Summer, she throws her arms up in the air to tell her tale as the assistant leaps through the air to cover her mouth. I wont be surprised if tomorrow I get a call from the school.