Not The Kind Of Dreams I Want

I came home from work yesterday morning to find a small swarm of ants had invaded our kitchen floor, conquering the chunk of bread crust they had found. As I wiped out the enemy forces, I made a mental note to give the kitchen floor a good scrub down as soon as possible to dissuade the little trespassers from coming back.

As I drifted off to sleep, I continued to worry about the ants coming back and how I needed to clean the floor soon.

Next thing I know, it’s late afternoon. I looked at the floor and decided that I had time to get it done before the rest of the family got home. I grabbed a bucket with soapy water, pulled out a sponge, and got to work cleaning the floor on my hands and knees. It felt like it took forever, but every nook and corner were cleaned and I felt satisfied that the ants would have to look elsewhere for any food.

And then I woke up.

I dreamed the entire thing.

Coming downstairs, I walked past the kitchen and thought, no way am I cleaning that floor. I’m already exhausted from scrubbing it in my dream!

If only I could have been sleepwalking (sleepcleaning?) while dreaming it.