My eight-year-old has started to have nightmares. They happen every night now, and they always involve police chasing him. I can't make it better, but I offer him lots of hugs and a spot next to my bed where he can sleep more soundly, where he feels protected and safe. I tell him that he is powerful and brave. I tell him that he is safe. I could tell him that our local police seem to primarily shoot those experiencing homelessness or those in mental health emergencies, but I don't want him to worry about our neighborhood friends.
Truth be told, I have those same nightmares in the daytime. He's only a few years shy of being old enough to be considered a threat rather than adorable. I can tell him that he's just a kid. He's safe. I believe that's true. For now.
These nightmares started when he is eight. I imagine they will continue for the rest of his life. This is his life. I can't take the nightmares away, and I can't protect him from the realities behind the nightmare.
No comments:
Post a Comment