Dear Whale,

You really scared the Pie, you know that, Whale? When she woke in the morning, she told us that you spent the evening in her room. At first, she was brave and all business. Her bottom lip began to quiver when she told us about the cage you put her in. In the beginning we thought it was just her active, vibrant imagination. But when I went to leave for work in the morning, she clung to me and asked me what I dreamt about. Surely I couldn’t leave her if I had been a party to such an unpleasant night.

I told her that I dreamt of the zoo and of picnics in the park with my girls. I dreamt of planting flowers and running through sprinklers. I saw ice cream cones and I chased our dogs. I told her that everything was wonderful in my dreams because she was in them. That didn’t help. J took her and she wrapped her arms around him and when he asked her what she wanted to dream about, she said, “My daddy.” I cried.

A little later in the day, I called Mom to see if the topic was brought up again. She assured me that Pie was fine and hadn’t mentioned a thing about you, Whale. But when I arrived at the house a couple of hours later, Mom confirmed to me that Pie was still disturbed by what had occured the night before.

As it neared bedtime and we commenced our nightly routine, I could see Pie getting more and more anxious. I promised her that I was nearby and would never let anything happen to her. I told her that you had gone and would never return. I invited J to search the nursery to verify that fact. She burst into tears, angry that we were subjecting her to the same fate as the night before, worried that you’d return with your cage.

It was her first nightmare, Whale, and apparently it was a doozy. I couldn’t send her back to the room, though I may have done more damage than I meant to. Instead, I gathered their blankets and let them sleep on our bed. Even that wasn’t consolation enough. When I went to kiss her goodnight, Pie grabbed my hand and pulled her toward me, tears in check but still on the verge of escaping. I curled up next to her and whispered promises that everything would be okay. Finally, her grip loosened a bit and I slipped away. When I turned to make sure she was asleep, she was looking at me. Lips still quivering, but eyes heavy and far away. Then she closed her eyes and turned into her sleeping sister. I wanted to crawl back into the bed with her but I thought the better of it.

When it was time for J and I to call it a night, I gently lifted each girl and placed them into their cribs. Neither stirred but I still whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here. Sweet dreams. Happy thoughts,” in the hopes that she’d hear me and steer her dreaming to something peaceful.

When she awoke this morning, I held my breath waiting to hear if you had broken my promises to her and returned in the middle of the night. Thankfully, she did not speak about you again, but she did mention that she was in her bed last night instead of mine. The tinge of sadness in her voice made me worry that she felt that I had abandoned her to be snatched up again by you. But then she hugged me tight and kissed me goodbye and I was forgiven just like that.

Please Whale, don’t make me a liar. Leave her alone and take your boogeyman and ghost friends with you. Keep the shadows away and don’t make her fall into thin air. Let her dream of puppies and sunshine and of her daddy. Go away.

Yours truly,

MB