Last night I was afraid to go to sleep. When it came time to say "goodnight" to my husband, he insisted that I take a night light to bed with me. A bright one. At first, I felt a little foolish taking it with me, but I soon felt more grateful than shameful.
I always joke about pulling the blankets up over my head, to ward off potential boogeymen, but there was no joking going on night before last. It was a night like most other before it. I read a bit of my book, and then settled in to meditate as I drifted off to sleep. I never expected that less than 2 hours later, I would be woken by my own screams and a terrified husband charging through the door.
It took me a long time to still the shaking in my hands, and settle back to sleep. My very patient and loving husband abandoned his video games to protect me from imagined terrors, and stayed close for the rest of the night. Poor guy had very little space to sleep in, because I wouldn't budge out of the middle of the bed all night. I have never been so frightened in my life.
From the age of 12 on, I spent much of my spare time reading or watching frightening stories. The supernatural fascinated, yet never became a reality to me. Night terrors make the supernatural come to life, and that is downright terrifying. At least this experience has taught me greater empathy for how to respond to my son when he wakes screaming from all the terrors of the night.
I was working on another blog post, but I put it aside for a couple days. It's called "Procrastination."
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