Mon dieu

I had a dream last night that I was watching my two-year old son walk amongst a group of French speaking people who were having a B-B-Q on the boulevard next to a residential street. I knew they were French because of the words which they said. "Mon dieu' , mon dieu" they would say with pursed lips, as if they were in a constant state of consoling one another. Samuel casually made his way through the group who were mostly sitting on lawn chairs, and then suddenly took a turn for the street. He was quick. I reached out to grab him with my left arm in a sweeping motion from left to right. I heard no screaching tire sounds but had a feeling that something bad was about to happen because of what I did hear. "Mon dieu, mon dieu" the Frenchies said. I woke up after I bashed my thumb into the nightstand and never did find out what happened to Sammy. I went upstairs to see my son. He was warm and safe and asleep. "Mon dieu", I prayed. "Keep him from harm".
My thumb hurts.