Waking sheep up in a state of disarray was how Wednesdays sometimes presented themselves. It was as if the morning silently rehearsed what was about to be in the news 7 hours from now. That collision of thaw and sleet. A tsunami of unbelief gushed upen the eyes of all the sheep that had until then been sleeping standing up, including McDreamy.

Six eyes covered him. Four eyes were locked in a staring contest.

Then both of the four eyes lost the staring contest and looked away.

McDreamy knew: it was time. He told us about a dream he had.

In his dream there had been a field full of female sheep, all bleating their love for him. The sound drove him crazy. if one female sheep was heavy enough, imagine a whole field of them! He needed out help to sort through them all and so we decided to write down everything he heard. For every sheep a new piece of paper.

He hung the loudest sounding female sheep in the middle.

In his dream he also remembered that he himself had a piece of paper.

He remembered how love was written on it.

What he heard in his dream was every female sheep bleating her love for him. All of them! They sung, they bleated, they were in and out of tune, it was one big cacophony of sound, as if was a huge wall that surrounded him.

And he knew he had love for her, too, but he didn’t know who the ‘her’ was.

So McDreamy decided that half of the female sheep were not being truthful, since it is almost unthinkable that EVERY female sheep would love him. Sure, he is the catch of the cattle, but McDreamy thought that perhaps some female sheep were just practicing their seduction skills just to practice. So they can be cancelled out. Especially the loudest, he decided, she loves me not.

And so he silenced half of the voices in his dream. She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me. She loves me not.

Even though now McDreamy only had half of the female sheep as option for love, he still didn’t progress one bit.

It’s not about who loves me, or who loves me not, he said. It’s about what is written on MY piece of paper.

And with the same ease a dream awakes, he turned over his paper and read what was written on his waking heart. The four eyes of his slippers couldn’t see a thing. This name was for his eyes only.

Oooh mäh sheep! It’s her, it.. is.. her! McDreamy yelled. How could I have not know the name of my love?! What was I, asleep or something? Curious as we were, we asked about the name on the paper. But the four eyes of the slippers had a new task for this sheep: to keep this information hidden for a little while.