In the company of Monsters

"Mommy! Mommy! Help, it's chasing me!"

In his Toy Story pajamas, my four-year-old son storms into our bedroom with wide-eyed hilarity. Leaping onto our bed, he burrows beneath the blankets, shaking and crying.
"Good grief. He needs to learn to sleep in his own bed," my husband griped, tired of this constant nightly battle that began shortly after Jimmy's fourth birthday.
"Jimmy, sweetie, what is chasing you?" I asked gently, trying to peel him off my leg.
"There's monsters in my room, an one got out and is trying to eat me."

Why are humans always so afraid of being eaten by something? If grocery stores are any indication, we typically eat on our own. "Monsters, Jimmy, are not real. You need to be a big boy and go to sleep in your own bed," my husband scolded, mostly because he wanted to be the one grabbing my leg.

"I just can't, Daddy. It's got red eyes and horns and fangs and sharp teeth. I believe it to be an alien. His back is covered in hair, and his short legs enable him to run quickly. Don't make me go back."
"You're being a big baby, Jimmy. You are now four years old. Son, you're too old to be weeping over a bad dream. "Sweetheart, he's scared to death. Leave him alone. I'll take him back after he's asleep," I offered.

"NOOOOOOOOOO! If I'm asleep it'll get me for sure!" Jimmy

screamed, which woke his younger sister in the room next to him. "Shit. Is it rock, paper, or scissors?" My husband asked.
"Nevermind. You stay here with Jimmy, and I'll feed Rebecca. I snarled, "You big baby." Another one of those nights was coming up. We would have to drink a lot of caffeine to stay awake tomorrow and drag our day along. Then, we'd be too wired to sleep, and the cycle would go on and on. Ugh.

Have children, they said. They claimed that they would be a blessing. They did not mention that we would be too exhausted to take advantage of the damned blessings. After warming a bottle for the infant, I sat down in the inviting armchair to feed her. Sometime while she ate I drifted off to sleep.

The enormous alien with red eyes and horns was right there. Its black, hairy legs were moving at lightning speed. The jaws were working ravenously, and the needle-like teeth and fangs were slavering.

Although I tried to run, the air had turned to mud, and all I could do was wade sluggishly through the morass, trying to put distance between myself, Rebecca, and the alien monster that was attacking us.

It wasn't an extraterrestrial being, no. An underworld demon was responsible for this. Satanic, evil, dark, malevolent, and so frightening that it horrified me to think such a thing existed.

I shook myself awake and looked around the living room and saw nothing evil. I was borrowing Jimmy's dream. Poor Jimmy. What a terrifying scenario to imagine. What in the world was the source of this vision that he so clearly described?

I brought Rebecca to bed with me, cuddling her between me and a pillow, because I didn't want to leave her alone in her crib with these nightmares wandering the house. My husband had taken Jimmy back to his room and was probably trying to get him calmed down and back to sleep.

Three in the morning was the tenth time I checked the time.

Why do we do that? We keep an eye on the time to see how little sleep we'll get in the morning because we can't sleep. I awoke by myself, with a squirming, wet baby in the bed.

Jimmy must have persuaded his father to stay and protect him. I quickly changed her and laid her back down in the crib, then stripped our bed and threw everything into the washer.

Roy would be late if he didn't get ready for work before almost six in the morning. After putting the coffee on and making some toast I crept to Jimmy's room, hoping to wake only Roy.

Roy, however, was not present. No Jimmy either. The Toy Story pajamas were ripped and left on the floor, half under the bed, looking like they had a pillow fight.