I went ahead with the dream idea. Here's how it starts.
He was sleeping. He hadn't really needed to, not for a long time, but he found it helped the time go by. A break from himself was a respite.
"My child!"
His head jerked up, ears flopping about wildly and narrowly missing the trunk of the tree he had laid against. That would have hurt.
"My child, dinner is ready!"
"Coming, Mom!"
Cheerful, he got to his feet, ran out from under the tree and along the sunlit field. In a surprisingly short time he had reached New Home, dashed into the house, turning left sharply to find his parents already at the table. The complimentary scents of cinnamon and butterscotch filled his nostrils.
"It smells great, Mom!"
"I am sure it does, but you have to eat the main course first. Yours is over here."
"I helped select the ingredients." Said his father, stroking his golden beard with a little pride. "Your mother may be the better cook, but I can still recognise freshness when I see it."
He clambered into his seat, where a large platter was covered. Feeling absolutely ravenous, he lifted the lid.
"Oh boy!"
A large mound of soil lay on the platter, damp and clumped together. Licking his lips, he carefully placed it on the ground, and buried his feet in it up to his ankles. As he absorbed the nutrients, he rubbed his belly in satisfaction. Absently his head turned towards the sunlight beaming in through the window, as he looked over the great city covered by a rocky roof.
"You always know where to find the best soil, Dad. This has so much nitrogen!"
His father chuckled softly.
"How was school today, my child?"
"It was great! Mister Kent brought in a cloud to teach us about it, and I put my hand in it, and it was all wet! They really are made of water!"