In the dark, I’d dream of terrible things that had no name. Many nights I’d yell out in my sleep and wake Mama in the next room. Opening my eyes to the orange glow of my Mickey Mouse nightlight and her smell, whimpering, I’d curl into her, and she’d smooth back my sweaty bangs. Sshhhh don’t worry, Mama’s here. I’ll stay and rub your back, how’s that, baby? I’ll stay here until you fall asleep and rub your back and I’ll stay here until morning if I have to, whispers, until the black turned to brown, and finally sleep again.
Nightmares, Six Years OldIn by Allison on December 13, 2010 at 12:29 am