Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Friday, September 22, 2006

What Dreams May Come

The night before last, my eleven year old had a horrible nightmare. He appeared at my bedside and simply waited for me to become aware of him. It only took a moment. We mothers have finely honed spidey sense that is uniquely adapted to intuiting the distress of our offspring.

"What's wrong, babe?" I asked in a mumbling sleep slur.

"I had a bad dream."

It was a statement, not a plea. Because eleven year olds are actuely aware that they are eleven years old. He stood there, pale and trembling. He hadn't done that in a very long time.

"Do you want to sleep with me?"

He climbed in without a word. When he was in the bed, he slowly, shyly backed his behind up to mine. And it was enough. He slept.

We've all had those nightmares that are so real that they cannot be banished by merely waking haven't we? Even as adults, those dreams haunt a person. They compel us to seek out the company of others. To turn on lights. To check under beds and inside closets. To keep away from windows. To avoid turning our back on a darkened room.

When Diminutive One was about 4, and going through a particularly challenging period, I dreamt that he drowned. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach didn't leave me for a week and I was hyper vigilant to the point of being obsessive. I couldn't touch my child enough. I needed to assure myself that he was still there. The terror, the grief, the feel of his cold limp little body in my arms as I begged nameless faceless people not to take him from me...it was so very real. I just couldn't shake it.

Another time, after hearing a news story about a toddler lost in the woods, who ultimately died after wandering in circles so long the feetie pajamas he had on were worn through, I repeatedly dreamt about being lost myself. *I* was that toddler, crying for my Daddy, wondering why he didn't come. I was so cold, so alone. That was probably five years ago, but I still remember the stark terror of that dream. I can remember the chill in my bones and the feel of the snow underneath my torn and bleeding feet.

As a child, I'm sure I had many nightmares, but there are a few that stand out for their vividness. One involved the bathtub drain. I was old enough when I had this dream to realize I was way too big to be sucked down the drain. But the dream was so very real that I couldn't bring myself to take a bath. Instead I showered standing as far as I possibly could from the drain. I was also old enough to realize that was unbelievably silly. Ashamed, I never told anyone. But I showered that way for quite some time.

Last night, he resisted going into his room. He did his homework at the kitchen table instead of at his desk. He asked to use my computer, instead of using his own. I wondered what was going on, but frankly, I haven't completely figured out this almost a teenager but sometimes still a kid phase yet, and so I left it alone. I had forgotten the nightmare. But he hadn't. It was still haunting him.

When it was time for bed, he reluctantly and sheepishly admitted that he didn't want to go in his room. Now, Pre-Pubescent One tends to be a bit melodramatic, so Husband looked at me with his brows raised.

"Go get in my bed" I said.

Husband's brows raised a millimeter higher. I am a notoriously solitary sleeper. But as an adult who still can't bear to sleep with the closet door open, I am sympathetic to the fears that plague the child in all of us in those lonely hours between dark and dawn. And I never underestimate the power of a dream. The relief on is face was a testament to that power.

"He had a nigthmare" I said. Husband shrugged.

This morning, Pre-pubescent one said simply, "Thanks Mom."

Sometimes, parenting is really hard. And sometimes, it's almost ridiculously easy. A safe place to sleep...the comfort of Mom, who is, of course invinceable, and can certainly banish any foe, real or imagined with just her...Momness...

I can do that.

8 Comments:

  • At 8:48 AM, Blogger Mrs. Chicky said…

    I remember the story of that child who got lost in the woods. I had bad dreams for weeks. Since I had my daughter I've been jolted awake by many a bad dream, the bolt upright kind of waking that makes you cry out. But those dreams you wrote about, the ones that stay with you for a week, are the worst. Thankfully I haven't had one for a few months.

     
  • At 9:02 AM, Blogger Mom101 said…

    It's strange how dreams can alter your behavior or emotional state in the conscious world. Nate does a stand-up routine in which a girl (in a shrieky falsetto) says "I'm not talking to you - I had a dream where you cheated on me and now I'm really mad!" It's so true.

     
  • At 10:42 AM, Anonymous ~m~ said…

    aw mama! I have also had those moments when the parental response to s situation was so easy I was left with a feeling of "That's it?" Isn't wonderful? Almost like finding an "Easy" button in real life.

     
  • At 12:27 PM, Blogger Jess Riley said…

    You're a good mom. :)

    Last night I dreamed about Halloween and religion. I also recently dreamed that I was an intern for Ann Coulter. I guess I'm processing lots of crap in my waking hours, huh?

     
  • At 12:55 PM, Blogger Ruth Dynamite said…

    It's a great feeling - knowing that you are home base, the safety zone, the place where nightmares don't exist. If only it could be that way always.

     
  • At 1:17 PM, Anonymous mothergoosemouse said…

    I have to giggle about Mom-101's comment because at our house, we have "Evil Dream Kyle". I occasionally dream that he is being a real shit, and I literally HIT him and KICK him in my sleep.

    Ever had those dreams when something terrible is happening in your life in reality, but you dream that everything is just fine? Then you wake up and slowly realize that it was just a pleasant dream, that the unhappiness of reality is still real.

     
  • At 7:10 PM, Blogger Oh, The Joys said…

    God, the dreams about something bad happening to the children... the WORST.

    Loved this post!

     
  • At 7:10 AM, Anonymous Kvetch said…

    A lump in my throat and a sigh. The "momness" part got me. Boy. So true. Its a power we have, if we're lucky. Now if only every mother used that power for good. So well said, BA, as always.

     

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