I dreamt of watching the interaction between a woman, her husband, and their small child, a boy of maybe four or five. The boy didn’t want to leave the grocery store and his parents were trying to talk him into leaving. The boy was on the verge of a temper tantrum. I stepped in and scooped him up in my arms.
“You’re angry at your father, aren’t you?” I ask.
The boy nods his head.
“And you’re angry at your mother, too?”
Again, he nods.
“Are you agree at me?”
He raises his hand and indicates with his fingers that he’s just a little angry with me.
As we’d been talking, I’d be carrying him out of the store.