It happened again last night.
Deep in sleep, with all the imaginative possibilities of my dreamscape swirling round in my head, I couldn't help but to be awoken. The room was dark, ill-lit from only the casting light of the hallway. Silent, yet the familiar sound of footsteps stirred within my dreary mind. The footsteps were not heavy, such as an adult, but light and snappish as they quickly moved over the ground. A creaking of the floor underfoot, promptly gained my attention as they progressed around my bed.
I don't remember the words spoken at the time, but just a vague idea of what was asked. The voice called out to me, "Mom." I knew instantly that it was one of my own children asking for me in the darkness. A common occurrence in our household, often in the early morning. I am accustomed to my young children wandering in beside my bed, talking or asking questions before even checking to see if I am awake. Children believe that they can achieve the answer they are seeking without suffering the consequences in this sleepy situation. For some reason they continue this practice hoping to gain from it before it is all dashed away by a lucid mother.
I chose to respond to the voice in a positive manner of nonsensical murmurs. The voice called out again, "Mom."
In the shadows of my small bedroom, I could make out the form of the child as it moved around my bed. The shape more apparent in the space in front of window, gained the look of my daughter. She is rather short for her age, standing just to the top of my dresser but visible nonetheless. As she moved along, I could make out the outline of her hair as it brushed over her slight shoulders. There was no mistaking the child in my room, it was my little girl.
I called to her again. "What is it honey?"
There was no response.
"Hun, what's wrong?" I asked waiting for a response.
She stood motionless, undisturbed by my attempts to satisfy her. Shadows carefully crossed her body hiding her face from my searching eyes. I lifted my drowsy head to view her standing just beyond my sleeping husband. There was no sound. No movement.
Tired and frustrated by the visit, I turned to reach the light behind me. The lamp flickered to a soft warm glow filling the room. The shadows crept back, recoiling from the rising light.
"What is it?" My words came firm and hot like hardening lava.
She was gone. My room was still.
I sat up in my bed frantic to find where she had gone. Leaping from my bed I rushed to turn of the overhead light in the bedroom. I looked beneath my bed, but she wasn't there either. My husband lay peacefully in bed without any warrant of concern to rise like I had. I couldn't let the hunt end there.
I moved light-footed throughout the house, checking rooms and children. Disturbed by the unusual awaking, my heart raced in a state of panic. I stood alone in the dining room, every light in the house bursting into the darkened corners. My daughter even, sleeping in the deepest of slumbers. Here, at one o'clock in the morning, an eerie disquiet lurked over my shoulders.
There was no one. It had gone.
