It opens in a shop, a really small pharmacy, I'm keeping one hand on my baby's pram, I don't want to wake them by picking them up, but I need some Ibuprofen. The pharmacist asks who is it for, me or the baby, but before I can answer, someone who I take to be his assistant distracts me. Next thing I see is that there's a box of Calpol in the pram and I don't want to ask for any for myself so I exit the shop, really worried now that the baby is so fast asleep and feeling anxious about the pharmacist's ' assistant ' did she give my baby Calpol ? and she's actually following me down the road but suddenly we're at some kind of tip or quarry and my toddler child is standing at the top of a huge slag heap or mountain of dust or something hideous and as I open my mouth to call him, he decides to slide down. The pharmacist's assistant is watching me as I stand, paralysed with overwhelming fear, tinged at its edges with admiration for the way my toddler boy launched himself with such gay abandon down the steep slope of the slag heap.
Abrupt end to the dream. I wake with a gasp.
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