Beach Dreams

Background for this post: I currently sleep in a twin bed that is situated in the hallway next to the bathroom and outside our youngest son's door.  The bed's location is convenient for kids to play around while waiting for their nightly bath.

With the youngest--he is getting to be a good sleeper, but tends to be a wanderer if left unsupervised, so my job is to intercept him if he decides to sneak into mom's bedroom for a 3 am bed jump or something.

Anyway...

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Ahh, the sound of nothing.

No little kid laughs or screams.

No blaring television or requests for backyard football.

No thump of the front door as it resists being opened due to the summer's humidity.

Just darkness and solitude in our quiet sleeping house.

Ok, silence except for the audible low groan of our lab mix snoring.

It is the end of another day.

Yawning then rubbing my red eyes, I pull back the worn sheets on my hallway bed.

I wonder how many times I'll get awakened by curtain climbers tonight?

I dive under the sheets and close my eyes in the dark room.

My thoughts race and arrive at a serene scene: a bright summer sun, a blue ocean with a sailboat bobbing near the horizon, small waves dancing on a secluded beach, and the warm sand on my bare feet.

I stretch my toes and continue the pleasant thought.

Wait...

This dream has an element of realism.

I shift my legs back and forth under the covers, and something feels abrasive.

Scratch.

What?

No.

Sand.

Lots of it.

My bed is littered with sand.

Golden powder from our backyard sandbox.

Transported by one of the kids prior to bath time.

And deposited in my sleeping quarters.

On this night, I certainly did not get the last laugh. 

The children did.

Beach dreams?

Argh...