In my dream I am lying in a large bed. Real sensations seep into my sleeping dreaming; the weight of blankets and the fuzzy warmth where I have pulled them over my ears. I am aware of topping and tailing with someone else in the bed. It is my mother. Then blankets lift on one side, creating an unwelcome draft with the movement. My father slides in next to me. I complain, “What are you doing?” and climb out into the coldness of the room, smooth linoleum under my feet. There are two other beds in the room, dimly seen in the darkness. I know that these are the beds of my young daughters. I decide to share Scarlett’s bed but as I approach I see that her bed is empty. Searching for her I find her asleep on the floor in the doorway. I reach down to pick her up - bending my knees for ergonomic lifting - and carry her to her sister’s bed. I cover her still sleeping warm body and then climb onto the empty child size mattress on the floor, curling my body into a smaller form to fit under the small colourful quilt.