Bad Dreams

Ceeya woke me up at about 2 AM because she had a bad dream. We curled up together in my bed and she went back to sleep very quickly.

But I? Oh no, my friends. I was awake, and awake for hours. I did not get back out of bed, for fear of waking my (5-year-old) baby. I lay there snuggled up to her, smelling her hair, holding her hand, knowing she will not be small forever, enjoying this little slice of quiet contentment.

Sometime after 4:30 I dozed off--and had a long, rambling horrible dream in which I was literally fighting off feral cats and rats invading an old house I'd moved into. And then realized Sweet Dub had been visiting someone in the hospital and inexplicably dropped dead while there. It hit me like a board to the chest, I fell to my knees and howled. I screamed at my mother, who was suddenly there, to turn off the TV, which was inanely loud. She picked up the remote and turned off the cable box only, so instead it turned to the loud roar of dead air. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" I screamed in my pain, and I woke up sobbing and holding my heart.

I rolled out of bed gasping and realized the shower was on and the noise had infiltrated my dream. I staggered to the bathroom and saw my love, blurry behind the shower door, and my relief flooded over me like the warm shower rain. "Honey!" I called, and he poked his Sweet Dub head out, eyes wide with concern as he took in my distraught face.

I kissed him and almost crawled into the shower in my jammies. I briefly told him my dream as I blew my nose.

"That's awful," he said. "Honey, no. Never."

Whew, Lord don't test me like that. My heart would give out.


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