Boots dreams. She often dreams, but when she has had a particularly good day, she dreams deeper yet. When she went to sleep, it was a bubbly feeling in her tummy — and it wasn't just because of the light bobbing of the boat on the water! Boots has never been in a boat before. She had wanted to go swimming, but Ge-go had said no. And Temp is here, too! And then Fo-fo and Zap came, and, oh, they were so pretty! But they made much noise.

Now, there is no noise. Boots is dreaming. She likes to dream. In a dream, there is nothing holding her back. Everything feels soft beneath her hands. When she runs, she is as fast as a chee-tuh! And when she jumps, she's like a kan-roo! Sometimes, she even flies! Like a bat! And maybe, just maybe, she can sometimes…. crawl like a Beeg Bug!

Maybe Boots even loves to dream. It's so nice and warm, like being in hot water and floating about. Well, Boots can't float — not like Ge-go and Liz-ee can. But sometimes, Ge-go will take her to the pool and pull her through the water. That's what it's like to dream. Smooth.

In this dream, Boots is playing dress up with Temp. The clothes come from nothing and the ribbons from Boots' own head, again and again, making her giggle. And no matter how much he wears, Temp still has space for more. He gets bigger and bigger, needs more and more clothes. He's smiling. Well, not like humans do. But like Beeg Bugs do. With their feely-things pointing up and bodies all relaxed and soft. Then, he reaches out with his leg — takes a pretty, pink dress from his shell and offers it to Boots. "The princess, wear the dress, wear the princess?"

Boots giggles again. "No. Beeg Bug wear! I wear this!" And she holds out a hand and grabs a fluffy red coat out of thin air. Now Mama is here too, and she wraps the coat around Boots. It feels like a hug, all cuddly and soft. "Look, Mama! I dress up with Temp!"

Mama nods approvingly. "You're both very pretty!" she says. She is still fiddling with Boots' coat. She pulls at it so that it begins to slide off.

"Silly Mama!" Oh, silly, silly Mama. Boots needs to put on the coat, not take it off!

But Mama keeps pulling. Suddenly, Boots feels colder. There is a noise, too — a terrible yelling. People shouldn't yell when it is bedtime! Boots' eyes flutter.

And—

There is no more softness, no more warmth. The blanket has tangled Boots in it, her legs cannot move. Her shirt is wet and icky, it sticks to her chest. Icky, icky, icky! And the yelling is still there — loud and never ending, like the time two men had hit each other all over in the yard and Ge-go had closed the window, drawing the curtains. Don't look, Boots, he had said, they're just— they're just playing. But Ge-go had been silly when he had said that — because playing is no place for hitting, says Mama! Hitting is no-no! Hitting is no-no!

But Ge-go is hitting. Boots squirms and cries out. Her throat feels like the time she had too much soggy cereal and could barely talk. The light is hurting her eyes — Fo-fo and Zap are shining bright, beaming all around. Icky mucky slimy goo spatters the boat, like snot. Boots cries. She cries and cries for Ge-go.

Because there, in front of her, stands Ge-go, and he is hitting. He is hitting long, slimy things — tentacles, Boots thinks they are, like on a squid — and he is not stopping. He keeps hitting and hitting and hitting with his sword, and the goo splatters everywhere, and if Mama was here she would give him a timeout! Timeout, timeout!

But Mama isn't here. Mama isn't here, Boots wants Mama. Boots wants Ge-go! "Ge-go, no hitting! No hitting!" she sobs. "No hitting! Go home! Boots go home!

And Ge-go stops. He stops, drops his sword, turns. When he reaches for Boots, his arm is red and covered in goo. "Hey, you're okay. You're okay, baby. Don't cry," he says, and his voice is as gooey as the slime

But she's not okay. She's cold and covered in slime, and Ge-go had been hitting, and Mama isn't here.

Boots is not okay.