riding the nightmare

"it's not your bed's fault you're having nightmares. that's not what's causing them."

his crying slowed down to a sob and an occasional sniff. his screaming had dragged me out from a particularly positive dream and, still in that liminal space before fully waking up, i'd been sitting on the floor in front of his door facing off with his four year old terror for what seemed like forever before guessing that there might be a reason he was refusing his own bed.

"do you know where nightmares come from?" i asked him. i don't know what kind of answer i expected.

"from my head".

ah. okay.

he finally relented and let me help him up into his bed. i climbed in next to him and we lay there for a minute in silence.

"daddy?"

"yes?"

"when are you going to fix my head?"

oh.

shit.

"your head's not broken, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with you. do you know what causes nightmares? fear. and a nightmare is your brain figuring out how to deal with that fear. so when you're having a nightmare, it's okay. it means your brain is teaching you to not be afraid."

being half-asleep i rambled on a bit more, trying to repeat the same thing in different words and praying i wasn't confusing the poor kid.

then i paused to see if anything had landed.

"okay, daddy," he calmly said. and turned over. and went back to sleep.

i lay there a bit longer, then quietly returned to our bed, and went back to sleep myself. but none of my dreams were going to top that experience of relief; not his, and certainly not mine.