Mom has had a good week, but for one incident that scared the living daylights out of me. And, as she explained to me, it wasn't pleasant for her either!
Last week's news stories were full of the trauma suffered by several rural people who live about sixty miles from us, near a small town. Although they were not physically harmed, intruders broke into their homes, tied them up, and ransacked their houses. I travel to that nearby town often because my Reading Recovery continuing education group meets there every 6 weeks, and so I know several people who live there. Last Tuesday night I'd gone to sleep thinking about those home invasions. On Wednesday morning I awakened very early as often happens to me, and I came downstairs to do my devotions. About 6:00 a.m. I decided to try to sleep awhile longer and went back upstairs. I'd just settled back into bed and was drifting off to sleep when I heard Mom screaming through the baby monitor. Her voice was terrified and she was calling on the name of the Lord. I immediately knew that she was either being attacked or thought she was being attacked. Either way I knew I didn't want to go plunging into her room alone. I levitated from bed yelling to John to come with me quickly because Mom was screaming. I ran full tilt to her door and turned to find that John was not behind me. I ran back up the stairs and John had just managed to sit up and was searching for his slippers! I yelled again for him to come and ran back downstairs, and this time could hear him coming along behind but not fast enough for me. I went ahead and ran into Mom's room. No intruders in sight, and she looked calm. I asked her if she was alright.
"Oh, yes, I just had a really terrible dream," she answered.
Like a mother whose child has frightened her, I sounded a little bit short as I replied, "Well, you sure scared me."
She drew herself up and replied huffily, "Well, Linda, the nightmare was not pleasant for ME!" Both she and the cat seemed affronted by my attitude.
I retreated back to our part of the house to find my husband slouched dozily in the overstuffed chair in our living room. I'm not sure that he'd ever really opened his eyes. "Everything alright?" he inquired. I was weak-kneed from the adrenalin rush and a little bit tight lipped over his refusal to get frightened along with me and kept my answer short.
"Just a bad dream," I said.
Back upstairs John began to snore almost immediately while I clutched the covers up under my chin and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. And I swear I could hear Mother's gentle snores over the monitor.
They just don't understand why I make such a big deal of everything.
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