Bad dreams

“Mommy, I had a bad dream,” Jory said, as he crawled into bed with me.

“I’m sorry.  What was your dream about?” I asked.

“You, Daddy, and I were on a ship.  Then we got into an elevator and it got stuck.  Daddy and I got out, then we went to play,” he said.

Interesting.  He rarely ever mentions dads.  “Anything else happened?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” I questioned, he never says he doesn’t want to tell me something.

He shook his head.

“You know you can tell me anything, anytime, right?”

He nodded his head.

“Did something happen to me in your dream?”

He nodded again.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“You went away,” he said softly.

I kicked the bucket.  That sucks.  “Oh okay.  But you don’t have to be scared.  You don’t have to be scared about your dream or about telling me things.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

Then my baby snuggled down next to his mommy and went back to sleep.