Last week I had the worst dream I'd had in a long time; it involved my 33-month-old son. In the dream, he had developed some sort of severe behavioral problems (which weren't detailed in the dream), and it was decided that he was too smart to control. We had to DUMB HIM DOWN. So I mixed some kind of concoction designed to DAMAGE HIS BRAIN, which he happily drank and then went back to playing. Immediately after this, I started sobbing uncontrollably and screaming something along the lines of "Oh Christ please let this be a dream," at which point I woke up and thanked Jesus rather profusely (my personal feelings regarding his existence and divinity set aside for the moment, plus I was still mostly asleep). Jeepers. That dream still haunts me, a week later.