Whispers in the Dark

It happens almost every night, in the wee hours.  Normally between 2:30 and 3:30, just as the dark is darkest and my dreams are most vivid.  The streets are silent, all cars are parked, not a dog is barking in the city.

A whisper.

Moooooommmmmm.

At first, I believe it is part of the dream, because it comes from the mouth of my fourth grade teacher or the police officer handling the rogue circus elephant or the person who is handing me the Hope Diamond to watch for a few days.

Moooooommmmmm.

I try to figure out how this works in the context of the dream.  Do I have kids if I'm only 10?  Why isn't someone babysitting them with this elephant running around?  Is the curse of the Hope Diamond so real that the kids can't even touch it?  And how do I keep it from Audrey when it coordinates so well with her princess skirt?

I neeeeeed mooowwwwwwwk.

"What?" I ask, suddenly recognizing that I'm a bit groggy to be handling a rogue elephant.

I neeeeeed mooowwwwwwwk.

"There's milk in the fridge."  That makes sense in any situation.

Moooooommmmmm.  I need mooowwwwwwwk.

"I know."  Let's please get back to the Hope Diamond.

Doe deeeettttttttt it!  Doe det da mooowwwwwwwk!  Moooooommmmmm.  Doe det iiiiiittttttttt!

My eyelids peel back.  It's Audrey.  I need to doe det da mowk for Audrey.  I always need to go get milk for Audrey.  Suddenly everything comes together: the weight on my arm, the hot moisture on my ear, the small fingers pushing my hair around.  I stumble out of bed, trying to figure out how I didn't know she had crawled into our queen-sized bed, how I missed Aaron's instinctive little pushes that protect his side from invaders and squish her farther onto my pillow.

I check the time.  It is 2:39 AM, of course.  I get the milk, remind myself to do this before bedtime and to show her where it is so I might sleep through the night for once.

I stumble back to my room, where Audrey looks to be in a state of deep sleep, sprawled on my side of the bed.  I take in her slumbering form and wonder if it was all a ploy to take my side of the bed.  I sigh.

Audrey jumps up, gathers Ninnie (her blanket), and grabs the milk from my hand.  She takes a swig and scurries down the side of the bed, navigating expertly to the door.  In the light of the hallway, she breaks into a run.

"I doe sleep in my bed!  Duh'night Mom!"