Gotta Go

“I’m so tired, so tired,” I say and think to myself that I would like to sink back into my dream, even though it made me sad. I remember dread and that something or someone horrible was about to turn the corner into my room. Something is still happening in my dream and I am going to miss it.

“I have to go potty,” she howls, her face scrunched in irritation, “I have to go potty now!” Margot has an unnaturally loud voice and I realize as she begins to claw at the blankets that I’m going to have to get up. She is insistent. I’m groggy. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it all the way to the bathroom.

Margot seizes me by the hand, “I’ve got to go” she whines with some immediacy. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.” My mind makes the decision for me, snaps itself out of sleep and the nest of tangled thoughts I lay in. We walk together towards the bathroom and cat eyes glint up at me as if to say, “Where have you been all this time? She has to go.” They look concerned and I think maybe I have been sleeping too long again.

We push aside the creaking wooden door and I stumble to a seated position on the toilet. My head is cloudy; it is pulling me down to the ground. I reach over to help Margot with her pants. Though she is dancing beside the bathtub, she has abandoned her air of urgency.

“No,” she slaps my hand away. She smirks and continues dancing.

“Come on,” I say, “you said you had to go.” Her little toddler legs pump up and down with delight. Mirth can be detected in her eyes. “I’m waiting for Horace and Florence,” Margot says. She indicates with an outstretched hand the prancing figures of her imaginary friends. “There’s a line,” she explains.