Mom: It’s weird. I always end up in these cylindrical rooms and they’re all different. Did it mean something in the real world? Was it a game or was it real? Papa and I were like two little kids flying around. He had this smirk like “I’ll get you” and I was like, “No, I’ll get you.” Then he went somewhere else and got a secret under three white pieces of armor. It’s not even like he beat me by a lot. The secret was just a smidge, a smidge, over what I had. Little shit. He’s very agile in the air! So am I. We were like two 6-year-olds playing kickball in the backyard.
A few minutes later, after we've been talking about flying in dreams -
Mom: I’m always wondering what propels the flight. I think it’s farts. Because every time we move it’s like, “Riiip. Riiip.”
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