When we woke up this morning, my wife asked my son what he dreamt about last night.
"Airplanes and airports," he said.
"Which airport?" she said.
"Barcelona airport," he said.
"Oooh, exciting," I said.
I dreamt I was in my hometown of Middletown, Pennsylvania, and I was helping my sister and brother find new apartments but they didn't want to move from their horrible, run down apartments.
"Why am I trying to get them to move if they don't want to move?" I said to myself in the dream.
Then I woke up and it took me a while to realize I wasn't living in Middletown, Pennsylvania anymore.
"Thank God," I said. "Thank God."