When You're Seven

I peeked out from underneath my bed covers. I did not want to go out there. My room lay in shadows, murky with unseen nightmares. I pulled the blankets back over my head and burrowed into the warm pocket my body had made while I slept. While I dreamt.

There, much better. No need to go out there. I’m fine right here. Surrounded by the soft comfort of goose down covers and my favorite Beauty and the Beast sheets. I hugged my pillowcase to my chest and shut my eyes. I’m safe here. But the dream was fixed to the insides of my eyelids. It burrowed into my head and got stuck on “play”. I couldn’t stop it. I willed it to end, commanded, pleaded, ordered, begged, cried. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I wanted my mommy.

“Mommy? Mommy??” Nothing. Where was she? Why couldn’t she hear me?

“Mommy!”…………”Mooommmyyy?!” A rustle from her room. I held my breath. She didn’t come. What was she doing? Why wouldn’t she wake? What had happened? Where was my mommy? “I want my mommy…” tears slid down my face. “I just want my mommy!” But she was all the way across the house. Across my room, through the hall. Then the door, the knob was hard to turn. Sometimes I couldn’t get it open by myself. What if I got stuck there. In the hallway. Not able to go forward and too afraid to go back. Would she be mad if I woke her? Would she make me go back to bed? But I didn’t want to go back to bed. I wanted my mommy. I needed my mommy.

I tucked my blanket around my shoulders and slid my toes off the bed. The air was cold and I snatched them back in under the covers in surprise. But I needed to get out of bed. I steeled my self and sneaked my feet to the floor. My heart raced and I waited for the hand that would reach out from under my bed to grab my ankle. Waited for the monster that would jump out and gnash its teeth and claws and gobble me up. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

My toes touched the floorboards. The room was quiet. No monsters yet. I gathered the blanket close to my body and raced across the room. I stubbed my toe, hard, and cried out. Can’t stop. But it hurts. Can’t stop!

I flew across the hardwood and reached the carpet, nearly tripped headlong into the hallway, didn’t stop to think about the knob, and flung the door open. I didn’t care if I woke her.

“Mommy!”

She shot up. “What is it honey? What’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream!”

Her shoulders sagged in relief that it wasn’t something more serious. “Come here sweetheart.” She held out her arms to me and I rushed into her. She pulled me underneath the blankets and sat me up by her side. “Tell me about your dream.”

“It was really bad. There were sharks and they were gonna eat me. And you were dead.” I felt the tears start again. My face was hot and wet. My chest hurt when I breathed. My mommy held me and patted my back. Those smooth, soothing circles that people use when others cry. The sobbing slowed.

“Mommy, I hurt my toe.”

“There, there, sweetie. Come here. Let me kiss it. I’ll make it better.”