Connor came into my room at 2 am this
morning crying and upset because he had a bad dream. He told me it
was such a bad dream that he couldn’t even tell me what it was
about. He climbed up and snuggled up to me like he used to when he
was a baby. I held him and rocked him and told him that whatever it
was to remember that it was just a dream and that everything was all
right now. He cried and cried and I told him he could sleep with me
for the rest of the night. This is a pretty big deal because I can
count on one hand the number of times either of our children has
slept in our bed. He would calm down and little and then get all
riled up again and begin sobbing. After this had gone on for quite a
while I told him that it might help him feel better to tell me what
the dream was about. I was fully expecting it to be his typical
“really bad” scenario...something like not getting a toy he
wanted or having to go to school on the weekend.
When he finally decided to tell me he
said that in his dream Charlie had died and it was the worst thing he
had ever dreamed. My heart broke. I snuggled him up even closer.
We talked about how everyone has bad dreams sometimes and that
everything was fine. Charlie was safely asleep in his room. I told
him to relax and I would scratch his back while he fell asleep. Just
as I thought he was going to fall asleep he said, “I was just
floating thru space with Charlie and then he got sucked into a
multidimensional portal and I couldn’t pull him out because it was
a black hole. Then it closed up and he was gone.” As I snuggled
my son I couldn’t help but giggle on the inside. A glimpse into my sons mind. Perhaps we need
to lay off the sci-fi...
