Runaway Sheep

The clock reads 11:34 PM. My peaceful dream is interrupted with Jeffrey's crying. Reluctantly, I climb out of bed, trudge down the hall and climb the stairs to his room. There he is, standing at the end of the crib that is closest to the door, and upon seeing me, starts crying louder. "Lie down and go to sleep," I tell him. He cries louder. "Nnnnno!" He tries to climb out and I prohibit him, pushing his leg back down. "Ssshhh!" I whisper in his ear as he protests. "Jeffrey, lie down and go to sleep. You're not coming down until it's light out. See outside? It's dark. When it's light, you can come down." He doesn't like my explanation and lets me know it. "No!"

I sit down in the rocking chair next to his crib, arms crossed. I let my body language tell him I am not giving in and he'd better do as I say. I wait. Finally, he throws himself back down in the crib with as much anger as his little body can muster. I stand, hand Timber to him, tell him to cuddle with him and go back to sleep. "No!" He tries to push the bear between the crib rails. I take Timber, hug him and say I will take him to bed with me. I turn to leave, and Jeffrey suddenly changes his mind, whining in protest. I hand Timber back to him and he tucks him under the covers beside him. "Goodnight," I tell him and stroke his forehead. I head back to bed. The clock reads 11:47 PM.

I like this dream. Peculiar it is, but interesting and I am aware of the dream, yet I want to know how it ends. But I don't know because Jeffrey is awake again, crying. I head upstairs again at 4:34 AM. The same scene as before plays out. Again, I tell him he can't get up until it's light out. But he doesn't care about waiting for the light of day. He cooperated the first time, after all, so I should consider this and scoop him up into my arms and take him back to my bed to snuggle. When he tosses Timber out of his crib this time, I pick the bear up and proceed to take him downstairs with me. Again, he won't let me and with obvious displeasure at not having gotten his way again, he lies on his back, kicking the covers back. I cover him and Timber and he kicks the covers off again. "You'll get cold," I tell him as I walk out of the room. He whines again, now insistent that I cover him up. He yawns, and looks back at me with troubled, yet sleepy eyes. How could I be so mean and leave him there? I'm back in my bed at 4:37 AM.

The game is getting old, even for him. Maybe tonight he'll give me no reason to leave my bed and let me finish my dream. Maybe.