To my absolute horror, I learned that my daughter, Phoebe, had an 'adult' boyfriend despite her only being 12-years-old. In my dream, she was out of control. A real problem child. I told her she couldn't go to this party that started at 9.30 because that was her bedtime. She snuck out, anyway - her creepy boyfriend in tow - who was around my age and still dressed like a teen. "Is that what you're wearing?" I asked, as she walked out of the door. She was wearing an outfit I remember from her 'baby' days, but in an adult size. She was really offended that I had asked and stropped off. Exasperated, I sat down on the sofa next to my deceased father and I told him my worries for my daughter. "They all go through it, Amanda!" He said, reassuringly. "Was I really that bad?" I laughed. Next scene; for some reason, I was on the floor with two bloggers I know from online but who I have never actually met. A guy and a girl. The guy - who didn't have any feet - kept rubbing his stumps on my legs and I kept pulling away. "It's okay!" He said. "I have feet!" And sure enough, they magically appeared out of nowhere. When I looked down at his body, his legs were strangely small. Like he was the size of a 7-year-old. "How bizarre!" I thought.