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Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Some Random Middle of the Night Type Thoughts

I was some where else, doing something else, in such a complete sense. My mind was firing signals like a fireworks display whilst I watched the whatever it was in my dreams as I lay like a mucus like paste in my cocoon of a bed. In case the metaphor is lost on you I was soundlessly asleep, snug, escaped, resisting consciousness like a running criminal resists arrest, when suddenly the screams from the room next door woke me up. Those blood churning, echoing cries of my almost three year old in the throws of a nightmare...

Naturally I'm usually the one transported from sleep into the realm of semi-consciousness. My wife was built with ear muffs permanently attached to her inner ear it would seem. So like a broken slinky I sort of rise and fall our of my bed and then crumple along the floor to my destination, the kid's room with all its horrors.

By the sound of the screams I'm half expecting to discover a kidnapping in progress but thankfully the only felony taking place here tonight is an unwanted dream and my 2.9 year old is shouting, "Mommy don't go away mommy! Don't go, don't go."

I should have guessed what was coming next. Her eyes open with a certain wariness as if someone had said the magic words, "Open sesame". But then slam shut again when seeing that the coming salvation is just dumpy dad in his thermal underwear struggling not to go completely zombie and threaten to eat her brains. She yells, "No I want Mommy! I want my Mommy!"

So we have our little war of the wills as I say she can come and sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed but its not enough to quench the fire of her still burning nightmare and she keeps up with cries of "I want Mommy..."

"But come and see Mommy in bed!" I say, which is met with a half spirited attempt to rise before throwing herself back into her miniature bed and that same cry for the softer, lovelier, maternal one to come and save the day.

Meanwhile I look to the cot where my youngest is wrapped in the utter bliss of non-awakeness, perfectly oblivious to the tempest that swirls around her. I note that she too, like her mother, must have some super power that allows her to maintain her sweet sleep while the rest of us mope about like somnambulists.

So the long and the short of it is here I am at 2 in the morning typing on the couch in the cold damp living room, wondering if I could swim in the condensation on my windows, and my darling one is cuddled up to her mother in the bed that was mine once, less than an hour ago in fact, though it seems like another life time now.

I should be greatful I guess. I had promised myself I would give birth to a blog before I went to sleep and did that thing where I go to bed with my beautiful other thinking, I'll wait till she's asleep and then sneak out to hammer one out... and before I know it consciousness has run away from me and I'm blissfully ignorant of the fact... that is until the screaming reminded me of my forgotten intention.

The nightmares have been happening ever since I can remember her metamorphosing from that weird blurry phase between being a real baby one minute and a sort of not quite a baby but not quite a toddler stage. Just last week in fact I had the exact same experience, kicked away by cries that drilled through my ears that squealed, "Daddy, I want to go to the DVD shop! Daddy don't go, I want to come to the DVD shop!"

The infuriating part is, you are left to burn in the flames of your own curiosity when she can't tell you what happened or why on earth she was dreaming about a DVD shop, though it'd be my best guess that an animated Barbie Movie had something to do with it. That's another obsession I don't care to write about at this time of night! But I'm not even sure she even knows what a dream is at nearly age 3. I'm convinced she confuses them with reality as frequently throughout the day she will start a tale with the phrase, "Last night..." and then continue to explain a scenario that definitely did not happen and usually ends with, "There are Barbies in my home daddy."

Its not all unpleasant of course. There was one morning, early, when I came to the desperate child, crying in a heap of blankets and asked her gently what the matter was. She had the look of someone who had been frantically looking for something and shouting at me crossly she said, "Daddy! Where are the lollies? I can't find the lollies!" I had to laugh because I distinctly remember having the same dream when I was a child. Heck I remember having the same dream as a grown up, only the lollies are less edible and more spendable, round and money shaped.

This Easter past we broke a personal rule of mine, which was to not pollute my children with the notion that a giant rabbit comes bearing chocolate eggs at night. Especially in the present day when the idea of Jesus dying on the cross and rising again isn't even an association most children would hold up to Easter! But being nearly three and still old enough to believe in the marvelity and wonder of this strange planet I found myself going a long with the lie with both my wife and I explaining that the Easter Bunny was going to come tonight... and it did, only it was dressed like me and instead of just a chocolate egg I could not help but to buy her a novelty Barbie Egg that came with a Barbie Plate and a Barbie spoon. That would be an epic fail on my part concerning teaching her the true meaning of Easter! Sure enough while:

...all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not me or my spouse

BAM comes the shout
Of wonder and glee
Of amazed young delightment
From the one nearly 3...

"Mommy! Daddy! The rabbit came on my bed and left me a Barbie! Mommy Daddy, the rabbit been in my room and left me a BARBIE!!"

Sometimes it can be a bit scary though. Two nights ago I slinked late into the house after a long shift at work and everyone was in bed where I should have been. But I couldn't resist the urge to wind down to a midnight feed and some YouTube. My current vice on the tuberverse being a crack pot show called Ancient Aliens. Well this night's installment just happened to be an exploration of the idea that Leonardo Da Vinci had been visited by aliens. Hey it was late and at this stage anything was worth watching. Anyway, I got to this bit where they were showing these ugly grotesque pictures of deformed people, gross people, almost not people. Even I was surprised by their strange quality that seemed to belong to a death metal album cover rather than the notes of the once great renaissance man. They made me feel strange, like I was looking at something more evil than artistic - then came the scream from the next room. At the precise moment that I considered the spiritual awkwardness of these pictures my little girl began to cry, "No, no no no!" In the next room. I hit pause and the cries stopped, so I pressed play again and the cries resumed. I decided I had had enough of Ancient Aliens for one night and turned it off, having what we used to call "the willies", mildly frightened and praying for the Lord's protection over us all.

I am looking forward to the day when over a bowl of wheat-bix we can discuss the dreams of the night before. Her imaginary world astounds me and keeps me in the realm of broken sleep which has become my current cross to bear. It would be nice if I could know and perhaps understand the imagery that seems determined to turn my waking brain into a cornflake. For now I can only speculate, awake, in the cold damp lounge, surrounded by the condensation and taunted by my sleepless cats.

Good night....

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