Wonderful world

I’m always having a nightmare. Having a nightmare trying to juggle work and Tom and writing the book, having a nightmare because I forgot to pay dinner money and am now in arrears, having a nightmare because slugs keep coming into the house.

Of course, none of this stuff is as bad as a real nightmare. You know; the kind where you’re crying out but no one can hear, or trying to run away but you’re stuck fast. The kind where you wake up in cold sweat, so frightened that you don’t even want to open your eyes, nevermind venture out of your bed and across a dark landing.

Tom has been getting lots of nightmares lately. I’m hoping it’s just a phase, perhaps fuelled by all that ghoulish imagery that was knocking about last weekend. I remember how frightening that walk across the landing was and I want to make him feel as safe as I possibly can. He came into my room the other night.

“Mum, I had a nightmare.”

“What do you mean, you had a nightmare? It’s the morning. Go downstairs and put the telly on.”

It felt like the morning, anyway. He’s always getting up at six these days.

“Mum!” He wailed up the stairs, “The telly won’t work.”

“Wha?” I grabbed my phone off the bedside table. It was actually 3.16.

“Oh come here, I’m so sorry.”

I leaned over in my sleepy stupor, tried to kiss him and got a mouthful of eyelashes and a taste of his tears.

“I’m so sorry I told you to go downstairs,” I said, “tell me what happened.”

He gave me a quick synopsis of the dream and the nasty-sounding characters and we talked about how there was no way any of it could possibly be real, then had a big cuddle and tucked him back into his own bed.

On Friday, I’d invited Anna to come and see the Lighting the Legend Parade at Ordsall Hall. Tom and I were both tired because of the lack of sleep and it was tempting to stay in out of the rain. We wrapped up and dragged ourselves out and we were so glad we did.

I still can’t quite believe Ordsall Hall, standing there amongst the council flats and factories. It was the perfect setting for a beautiful parade of lanterns and a brilliant outdoor theatre piece. The smell of crushed grass was so strong that it could have been June – and the sense of community spirit was uplifting. It all ended with a spectacular fireworks display to Madness’ Our House (one of Tom’s favourites) and Joey Ramone’s What a Wonderful World.

“That was amazing,” Tom said, from atop Anna’s shoulders, smiling wider than he had all week, “I fink to myself what a wonderful wor-or-orld.”

“That was the song on your cot mobile when you were a baby,” I said at bedtime, “Well, not that version, anyway.”

“It’s true though, it is actually a wonderful world, isn’t it?”


And there were no nightmares that night.



Filed under Uncategorized

4 responses to “Wonderful world

  1. What a fantastic blog you have! I really do envy your writing style…I was only introduced to your blog a couple of days ago but have found myself reading back through some less recent ones. Would be interested to read your book if you manage to finish it.

    I certainly don’t look forward to the nightmare phase – I was a nightmare myself when I was younger as I was always running to my parents’ room for one thing or the other. I thank my lucky stars that Sam is still young enough to legally cage him in at night (he sleeps in his cot – I’m not THAT cruel!) Hope Tom has less troubled nights now that Halloween and firework noises are over.

    • Emily

      Oh thank you – for your lovely comments and for reading. Yeah, I used to cage Tom in with a dog gate after he scaled the baby one, so a cot is fine. I hope the nightmares pass – and I am getting there with the book, just a bit of midnight oil required šŸ™‚

  2. How lovely, I’m having a little smile to myself and feeling all warm inside. I’ve come over from BritMums and I’m really pleased that I did. What a lovely little man you have there!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s