Outside the crescent moon hung so brightly. The stars had taken their posture in the black of night. The gentle hum of cicada and flicker of firefly reminded me it was summer. I lay in the sanctuary of my bed, reflecting on the goodness the day gifted me with, and before I knew it, my subconscious overtook my thoughts and began to whisper to me by starlight.
Just as my deepest desires began to dance with the fanciful foolishness of dreams, I was curtly and violently awoken. The sharp of an elbow met the very vulnerable depression of where my throat is greeted by my collar bone. Gasping to catch my breath, I guarded my neck with one hand. Half anticipating another blow, I held out the other hand before my face. As my breath returned I screamed for my husband.
"Michael!' I hollered as he frantically jolted from his sleep. The sound of my voice begged for his help, and also for answers of this unexplained midnight attack. He shot up like the arm of a catapult ready for battle. A blow to his temple ensued, as he grabbed his head and fell back into the once sacred and safe haven of our sheets.
Our eyes were still adjusting to the darkness in hopes of glimpsing our perpetrator. Suddenly there were horrible wails that made our eyes again forget to focus. The haunting and explosive bursts of machine gun sobs. An indiscriminate language broke out, interrupted only by the haunting cries of the night.
'What is that? Do you feel that?' my husband inquired, as the coldness of our wet and soiled bedding crept slowly, overtaking the dry fabric of our pants.
'I don't know,' I began to cry. Fear and confusion overtook my heart, like the blackness swallows the light of day. Palpitations, sweat, my sore and aching throat, the salt of tears streaming into my mouth, and the disorientation of my surroundings, left me almost begging for this intruder to have his way so that he can finally just leave.
A thunderous commotion came from the hallway. Expecting to see another aggressive intruder, I was surprised to see the silhouette of my oldest son in the doorway. Struck with panic, I feared for his future if he interrupted our trespassers deeds.
"Hide!!!' I demanded of him. Alarmed at the fear in my voice, he reached for the light switch. The moment of truth had come. He flipped on the light, and in shock we all sat staring at our thrashing and frenzied two-year-old who was urine drenched and sleepwalking. Michael grabbed his more threatening half, while I held his arms at his sides. We spoke loud and firm while hugging him, doing everything in our power to bring him out of this irrepressible dream state that had turned him into a nighttime ninja.
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