The Mailman’s Nightmare

I have this recurring nightmare, and that is that everyone in the world, except myself, has the problems of babies.
I mean they’re normal height and everything--five feet, six feet tall--but they have these giant heads,
like babies, you know? And enormous eyes, and tiny arms and legs, and they can hardly walk.
And I’m going down the street and when I see them coming, I give them some room and step aside.
Also, they don’t read or write, so I don’t have much to do.
Jobwise, it’s pretty easy.