I stood there almost confused as to how I got there. The light glowed under the door even though it was barely past 530 so I pushed it open and saw myself in the mirror. Bambi smiled from the nightgown, my hair was so bedheaded but in angelic way, the glasses hid the tears. She turned around confused and as I slowly stepped forward I told her I was having nightmares and began to cry as she held me. She tucked me in her bed and promised to be in the next room so I would be safe and could try and manage a bit of sleep. I laid there with tears pouring down my face for what seemed like ages but after truly minutes sleep refound me.
Perhaps it is embarassing that after twenty four years I found my mothers room post night terror but honestly the love of a mother is unmatched. The night had been filled with a similar dream twice. I was working in what seemed like a police department and there were no police. But a shooter would come and start killing children in front of me as I hid for my life behind a locked door with a room full of other people. It left me full of tears and confusion.
This isn't new. Sleep and I are never on the same page. It likes to terrorize those moments that I so desperately wish were full of blankness. I could write that it is frustrating beyond belief but the truth is behind the fear and tears I remembered that no place is like home and that I will never be too old to have my mother wrap her arms around me as tears stream down my face. I am so blessed to have her in my life.
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