Dreams

Lately Bridget has been having bad dreams. We’re talking bear attacks, floors suddenly falling away, and general spooky moods. But she’s been surprisingly brave about it. She rarely comes to get us in the middle of the night, and when I ask her about her sleeping in the morning, she gets this stoic, faraway look on her face and says she doesn’t want to talk about it. Partly it’s embarrassment, I think, but partly something else. A fascination with the fact that it’s her own brain coming up with this stuff, maybe.

We’ve been trying to come up with some solutions as she falls asleep each night. Sometimes we suggest she think of only fun things, like petting the neighbour’s cat; sometimes she suggests thinking directly about the bad thing, which means that, somehow, I guess, it can’t make the jump to her subconscious if it's already in her regular conscious.

A few nights ago, while I was brushing my teeth, I heard her thrashing around in her bed. This isn’t uncommon—even with pleasant dreams, she usually does a full 360 spin by night’s end—but I also heard her saying things like “No!” and “Get away from me!”

I had another theory about her nightmares I wanted to test. This is our conversation, as I sat down on the edge of her bed (she is lucid but only half-awake):

M: Bridget, are you okay?

B: No, Dad… just… get back.

M: Bridget, I have a question for you.

B: What is it.

M: Are you winning the chocolate bar-eating contest?

B: [Long pause] Well, not winning, but…

M: How many Rolos do you think you can eat?

B: No, Dad… just…

M: Do you think you can eat 50 Rolos?

B: [Asleep again.]