Tell me what this dream means. I've had it a couple of times now.
It's Christmas Eve. We've been every where and seen every one that we're supposed to see on Christmas Eve. After putting Jack to bed, Leah and I collapse on the sofa and try to relax for a moment. We try our best to recover from all of the forced family fun and rest up for more FFF to come the next morning, day and night. As we exhale, in the silent calm of that moment, it hits me that I haven't bought Leah one single Christmas present. I'm horrified and frightened and embarrassed and feel like a total arse.
And then I wake up.
I never get to see how it turns out. My guess is that I stayed up all night making a card on the computer that reads "Sorry you don't have a present to open" on the outside, and then the inside says something like, "But I couldn't find a box big enough for New York City! Pack your bags. We're spending New Years Eve in Times Square!"
I would then have to book airline tickets and a hotel room.
What does it mean, and how does the story end?
I'm going to get her a t-shirt and a loofa sponge at Target on the way home, just to be prepared.