“Then tummuks is gooses. I wiss I was my tummuk dzust once; I’d show it how never to get tired of buttananoes.”
“What I want to know,” said Budge, “is how we have dreams, ’cause I don’t know any more about it than I did before, after what you told me this morning.”
“It’s a hard thing to explain, dear,” said Mrs. Burton, as she endeavored to frame a simple explanation. “We think with our brain, and when we sleep our brain sleeps too, though sometimes it isn’t as sleepy as the rest of our body; and when it is a little wakeful it thinks the least bit, but it can’t think straight, so each thought gets mixed up with part of some other thought.”
“That’s the reason I dreamed last night that a cow was sittin’ in your rockin’-chair readin’ an atlas,” said Budge. “But what made me think about cows an rockin-chairs an’ atlases at all?”
“A COW READIN’s AN ATLAS”
“That’s one of the things which we can’t explain about dreams,” said Mrs. Burton. “We seem to remember something that we have seen at some other time, and our memories jumble against each other, when two or three come at a time.”
“Then,” said Toddie, “some night when I’ze asleep I’m goin’ to fink about buttananoes an’ red-herrin’ an’ ice-cream an’ourgrass an’ hard-boiled eggs an’ candy an’ fried hominy, an’ won’t I hazh a lovaly little tea-party in bed, if all my finks djumbles togevver? An’ I won’t djeam about any uvver little boy wif me at all.”
“When I dream about dear little dead brother Phillie,” said Budge, “don’t I do anythin’ but just remember him? Don’t he come down from heaven and see me in my bed?”
“I imagine not, dear,” said Mrs. Burton.