Christopher was four or so. He was sitting on my lap, facing me, his hands in mine. I am bouncing and jostling him while nearby adults prattle in conversation. He leans forward, touching his forehead to mine, and he says "Our heads are different coloured strait-jackets."
Later in the dream, I am sitting at a long, rectangular dining table with a white tablecloth laid out. I am recounting to the same adults from earlier what said the child.
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