He did it again. Jonathan. Gorilla lungs. Mark had already gotten out of bed and turned off the alarm/radio and ventured out to make coffee. Me? I didn't have to get up this morning - no school on Tuesdays for Jonathan and both kids were still asleep anyway, or so I thought. I drifted back to sleep, wrapped up in a tangle of blankets with the dog. Then the screeching began. I tried to ignore it for a few minutes. But then the "MOMMY!" started. It was pretty pathetic-sounding. He actually sounded scared. So I went to his room, opened the door, still mostly asleep, and there was my poor little guy, all curled up and hugging his stuffed dog, wailing that he had a bad dream.
What would any Mommy do? I got in bed with him, pulled him close, told him "Mommy's here." Then he tells me his dream was about an automatic gate. He went through it, and I didn't follow him. Hmmmmmmm. I guess that could be pretty frightening for a 4 year old?
I just find it somewhat amusing that my little guy's dreams don't usually involve monsters or things chasing him or the like. No. Rather, Mister anal/fastidious dreams things like his brother tore down his tower of blocks, or his room was messy, or in one instance, the room was upside-down. Oh well - guess I'd rather have him dream about that stuff than the monsters anyway. We all have our own monsters, right?