Sweet Dreams are Made of This

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Not the world’s best sleeper.

This is a stupid thing to be worried about (as is most of what I worry about), but Boo’s never described a dream to me.

Last night was especially dramatic: she woke up screamingly about an hour after bedtime. I asked if she’d had a bad dream, and she said “Yes,” but it was the kind of yes you get from kids after you’ve asked a question that begs a “Yes” answer. At three, Boo has entered that age when little kids resemble members of a corporate board: she just tosses a disinterested “yes” whenever grownups go into their “boring” mode of speech. (See also “What did you learn in school today?”)

I asked her what she’d dreamed about and got only a blank look. She may not have really been awake: she collapsed back into her pillow about two minutes later. But she had all the signs of a knock-down nightmare: clammy hands, sweat on her neck, and those panicky shouts that had summoned me. (I’m not going to say “screams” because I’ve known screaming kids, and this wasn’t that. But it was more vehement shouting than I’d heard from her in a long time.)

Everybody dreams and I’m not at all concerned that Boo doesn’t talk about it. Just maybe a little saddened… it would be cool to hear some more about what’s going on in there. My mom (hi, mom!) is a psychologist and I expect that she, too, will be pretty thrilled (maybe too thrilled? whaddaya think, mom?) if Boo starts reporting her dreams.

Then again, Boo’s gone in the past six months from a pretty bad sleeper to a pretty good sleeper. Some people say that poor sleepers (like me, sadly) remember their dreams badly, so maybe Boo’s just warming up.