So this morning at 4:30 SB (Small Boy) woke up crying hysterically and came into my room. Did I mention he was hysterical? Not the fake, “I want more Skittles because they’re really fruit” cry, this was the real thing. Red face, tears, boogers, shaking – heartbreaking stuff.
When I finally got him settled into my bed, I asked him what his bad dream was about. Ready?
He said, “I had a dream that you were deaded in a Haunted House”. I realized that 4:30 a.m. wasn’t the time for a grammar lesson, so I just asked him how that happened. He said I flew there and died.
Now I have a few problems with this…
One, can’t he just have the regular old “monster in the closet” type of nightmare? Why do I have to be the deaded one?
Two – I can’t fly. Period. Even at my lightest, pre-pregnancy weight, flying was never an option.
Three – We live in a pretty nice neighborhood. There’s one creepy guy in our cul-de-sac but as far as I know Haunted Houses are non-existent. Granted, I didn’t ask when I was buying the house, but one would assume this would come up during escrow.
Of course SB fell back to sleep once he realized I was ok and capable of trudging downstairs to bring him juice, but I was awake for the rest of the morning worrying about dying in a Haunted House. Clearly Disneyland’s out of the question for a while…