Dream Better Dreams
"Did you have a bad dream?"
Gabriel was standing in his doorway, his face rigid in a strange combination of sleep and fear. He didn't reply. A teddy bear dangled from his left hand. He looked like a classic little-boy-lost, maybe Wendy's younger brother, except that his teddy bear was dressed to the nines in Spiderman gear.
"Did you have a bad dream, Gabriel."
He didn't answer. He just stood there, looking ahead, seeming sad.
Ah, the sleepwalk/sleepterror thing, I thought. My younger brother K sleptwalk as a kid. I had fond memories of the more comical sleepwalks: the crying at his own reflection (what brother wouldn't love that teasing fodder), the yelling at parents to clean up the table. In my own son, though, not so funny.
I picked Gabriel up: not as easy a task as it used to be. He snuggled into my shoulder. Kicking his now discarded teddy bear ahead of us, I walked him back into his room.
"I'm going to put you back to bed and rub your back," I promised. Gabriel's head dug further into my shoulder.
I carefully-as-I-could heaved him back into his bunk bed. He pulled the covers back over himself, still semi-asleep, and closed his eyes. I helped Spider-Bear back into bed beside him, rubbed Gabriel's back for a minute, and then left him to dream better dreams.
-- Dad
