Night terrors of a mum with tweens
My husband and I asked the kids to be in their bedrooms by 8:30pm yesterday evening – so that we could start watching Stranger Things Season 4! Huddled up on the sofa together, we were quite taken aback by how much darker and scarier it was than the other three seasons. There were jump scares all over the shop and I was convinced I’d go to bed with nightmares of the terrifying ‘Vecna’. As we headed up to bed – I turned the last light off downstairs and ran up the stairs with a ridiculous mouse-like shriek as I tried to block out the hideous character from an alternate dimension, whom I’d just watched possess people. But even stranger things happened in my head as I slept last night…
The first attention-gripping drama that played out beneath my closed lids was that of my 11-year-old son’s final school play. I was there in the school hall (which was looking more like a small theatre through my hazy dream-like perspective) and to my delight, had obtained a stellar seat close to the front – without the head of a six-footer directly obstructing my view of the stage. I was amused (but not confused) to see that they had a fun train ride for parents, which tootled off round the hall with another parent in. As completely normal as it seemed, I wasn’t interested. I only had eyes and ears for one person tonight and that was my boy, and his two lines that he’d been practicing for weeks – God bless him. He was nervous. I was nervous for him and at the same time ready to savour every moment. I was desperately trying not to think about the mess I’d be in a few more days when we’d be waving goodbye to primary school altogether. As the performance began, a non-recognisable teacher approached me to tell me that it was indeed, my turn on the train ride. “Mrs Pestana, it’s your turn” he beckoned. I was hesitant. My heart was telling me – ‘No! Don’t leave your seat. You might miss his part’, but my mind, and the expectant eyes of the teacher were telling me ‘You must go. You’re being asked to take part’. So off I obediently went on that train. It circled me right around the back of the hall, very, very slowly and I was becoming impatient and increasingly upset. There was an eery carousel music playing so that I couldn’t hear what was happening up front, on stage. The train reached its stopping point and I stood quickly on tiptoes to see what was going on, as clapping filled my ears. My son stared out from the stage searching the sea of faces for me, and registered the empty seat in which I was not sat. His disappointment was palpable, running through my veins and searing through my heart. He was done. He’d said his piece and the scene was ending. A tidal wave of despair washed over me. I woke with a racing, aching heart.
My second series of rapid-eye movement that very same night saw my 14-year-old daughter get a job at Waitrose, in Wapping. Is there even a Waitrose in Wapping? (One to google!). The point is that Wapping is miles away and we have no links to that place at all. But she was of course ecstatic and celebrating already, and I felt totally trapped in my view that it was too far for her to travel and wouldn’t be good for any of us.
When the morning alarm drifted into my consciousness, I breathed a mammoth sigh of relief. I felt thankful for the comforting bird chorus, the glow of the sun and the warmth of the room. Thank goodness I still had Leo’s play to look forward to and Eva was safe in the next room tucked up in her bed, and not swallowed up in Wapping.
What was I to learn from these absurd, yet very telling motion pictures? I’ve always believed that our dreams can teach us things. Mine last night was definitely a lesson in following my intuition. It was a sign that I need to stop doing what other people think I ‘should’ be doing and start listening to my heart and soul – and going with that, because that’s the pathway to fulfilling myself and the people who automatically qualify as in my best interests. The second dream was an expression of my current concerns regarding my daughter becoming independent and moving further away from the safety blanket of our home. A reflection of my discomfort at her pushing back on us wanting to keep her safe, coupled with my delight at seeing her growing self-assurance and determination. Who knows whether Wapping or Waitrose will play a part in her future?
One thing I know for sure is that I’m on a cusp. A cusp of losing my babies to the world that awaits them. My husband tells me off for calling it a ‘loss’. Because of course, they will never be ‘lost’ to me. Maybe it’s a maternal longing or hormonal surge associated with motherhood, but nothing anyone can say will shake the feeling of loss and how terrifying it is to let go. This is hard. This is raw. This is gut-wrenchingly emotional. And now at 42 – this is what my night time terrors are made of.
I won’t lie though. Despite all the challenges we’re faced with as a family, I’m immensely glad the likes of ‘Vecna’ will never be one of them!