The Stuff Nightmares Are Made Of

Over the years, my kids rarely get up in the middle of the night because they’ve had a bad dream. When it does happen, it seems to come in waves. We’ll go months without somebody crying out for mommy or daddy (usually daddy), and then get three or four in a week. Some of them legit – there was a scary shadow a few days ago. Some of them completely unexplained. Last week when asked what her dream was about, she said she didn’t know. I’m not sure if there was a monster she just couldn’t bring herself to mention, or some abstract construction of her subconscious mind that she quite literally didn’t know what was happening. Terrifying either way.

One of them however, was a new one. My three year-old son woke up crying and wanted his mommy because he had a dream too frightening it jolted him awake. So scary he needed to be soothed back to sleep. In this bone-chilling nightmare – his toothbrush…(brace yourself people)….fell into the potty!

DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!!!

In a way, I get it. That would be terrible. The misery of the extraction goes without saying. Have to spend the next forty five minutes washing your hands. Have to replace that tooth brush. Hassle all around. Don’t know if that is exactly nightmare fuel, but a major hassle for sure.

But for who?

Exactly none of the repercussions of my son’s toothbrush taking a dive into the crapper would fall on him. I’d be the one fishing it out, disinfecting thoroughly, and looking for a new toothbrush. He’d be the one not caring that he doesn’t have to brush his teeth tonight. Maybe he is just so concerned for me that the thought of putting that undue stress on me was scary for him. He can be thoughtful that way. Let’s pretend for a second that’s the case. I appreciate him looking out for me, but I don’t think that rises to the level of scary enough to force you awake. Give you the jibblies, yes, but leave your crying for mommy – no.

So is my son a germaphobe? I’m keenly aware of his hygiene habits, so I’d have to say no. However, he absolutely hates having dirty hands. He has absolutely no issue licking, well, pretty much anything, but his meal will come to a screeching halt should he get something on his hands. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a three year-old eat, but he asks for a lot of napkins. Syrup, honey, ketchup, an apple that’s too juicy. Are these what keeps the boy awake at night?

As I write this it is almost Halloween. I’ve been wondering what movies would be the right level of spooky for him, but perhaps it doesn’t matter. He’d be more freaked out about the butter from the popcorn getting on his fingers than whatever is happening on the screen. He could care less if there was a monster under his bed as long as there isn’t something under his fingernails. I have no doubt that the scariest thing that will happen to him this Halloween is scooping the innards out of the pumpkin. I’ll prepare myself to be woken up by the nightmare that is sure to ensue from the terror that is goopy pumpkin fingers.

Though I wonder, what if his scary toothbrush dream was not some manifestation of a subconscious (or very conscious) fear, but rather his brain’s rehashing of something that actually happened. Depending on how you interpret dreams, there is a school of thought that says dreams are the brain’s way of processing the day’s events. Could he have have actually dropped his toothbrush in the toilet? Was he so embarrassed that it happened and so scared of the aftermath that his little brain immediately tried to repress it only to have his dream bring it back up? Though, if he dropped is toothbrush in the toilet, I have to believe he would have asked for help. I mean, he asks for help with 90% of the other things he does in the bathroom.

Unless he felt like he couldn’t ask me for help. Because it wasn’t his toothbrush he dropped. It was mine. I can see it now – he was in there goofing around rather that doing whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. He picked my toothbrush and pretended it was a paintbrush, first rubbing it all over the walls, then on the floor, and finally the inside of the toilet. His little uncoordinated fingers lose grip, and in goes my toothbrush. In a panic he reaches in and quickly puts in back in place, thinking he’ll move on and never think of it again. Until he dreamt. The thought of his father unknowingly brushing his teeth with a toothbrush that had been toileted was too much for him to stand.

Well now whose subconscious is running away with them? That didn’t happen. Probably. That probably didn’t happen. Good God I hope that didn’t happen. Am I getting Inceptioned by my three year old? Whelp, I know what my next nightmare is going to be about. And so does he.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN!