I was in bed and my mother had just woke us up for school. As I got ready, I was trying to decide what I would wear. I decided on a blue striped button down shirt dress I used to love. I was the first one ready. Bed was made and I had all my books and coat when I went downstairs. My mother was in the kitchen. She was at the stove preparing oatmeal. Only she didn’t look my mother. She was a horse. A female, dark brown horse with an apron on. And she was at the stove, stirring oatmeal. I was not startled or anything because she was still my mother. So I sat down and waited for my bowl of lumpy oatmeal. Lets face it, my mother was the worse cook ever when I was growing up. Without even drudging up those memories, I’ll continue on. Next thing I know, there’s a bowl of oatmeal in front of me. My mother is bent over inside the oven and all I can see is this huge horse rear end within 2 inches of my bowl of oatmeal. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, was this huge blast of wind. Then her tail swished back and forth. I tried with futile results to cover my bowl of oatmeal until the flatulence was over. While still in the oven, Mommy turned and looked at me with a look that told me that I better eat that oatmeal. I grabbed a spoonful, looked at her again, “Joan, Joan, wake up, get ready for school.” Thank God that was a dream. I got up, made my bed and prepared for school as usual. I decided on the Blue striped dress because it was easiest to get in and out of. I washed my face and ran downstairs for breakfast. Mommy was in the kitchen but in human form and she was at the stove and yes, she was cooking lumpy oatmeal but I ate it and was off to school.
written by Joan Nyobe