I hate putting real-life effort into dream situations.
Last night I dreamt that we were taking Carly LaPlaca to buy books for her first day of 2nd grade. Except Carly was actually Sarah's younger sister. Alex was there too, but more as just a presence than a character. I remember him looming in the background of many scenes with a bowler and a drawn-on mustache, looking suspicious.
There was a specific author we were looking for, and I was supposed to suggest good titles to Carly, since I am apparently familiar with every Young Readers book sold by dream-book-stores. But lo, when I leaned in to look at the spines, none of them looked familiar. I remember being confused that illustrations supposedly of "Dunston the Dragon" were actually of Tabaluga, a little green dragon from a German children's show. I then proceeded to throw books off the shelves in a frenzy, trying in vain to find the right books for Carly LaPlaca-Rogers. I awoke breathing heavy with a real-life furrowed brow.
My brain and I aren't on good terms right now. When I sleep, it should just let me sleep.
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This is so wonderful. I hope remembering it was worth the vivid frustration you felt.
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