Storm Dreamer

PROLOGUE The howling wind knocked tree branches against the bedroom window while golf ball-sized hailstones pounded the roof. Thunder and lightning sounded in the distance. Valerie Hayes stirred and rolled over in her sleep. The raging storm itself wasn’t enough to awaken her and she slept on undisturbed until the chilling screams from the baby monitor echoed around the room. In a matter of seconds, the internal bond between mother and child kicked in. Her eyes shot open and she sat upright in bed in sudden panic. “Madie?” Her shrill cries were indicative of something more than being hungry or a wet diaper. In a shot, Val was racing barefoot to her bedroom. Her daughter was standing in her crib, her little hands gripping the bars tightly. The muted blue light from the purple ladybug night lamp on the dresser illuminating the baby’s frightened expression made the whole scene more distressing to her. Val picked up the nine-month-old baby, coddling the shaking child whose green eyes were huge with terror. The child’s moist red curls stuck flat to her head. “Oh, Madie, look at you,” she said soothingly, feeling the cold wetness of the infant’s sweat-soaked sleeper against her bare arms. Val felt the rapid beating of her daughter’s heart pounding against her chest as she rocked her back and forth. “Shhh, baby girl, shhh, Mama’s here.” As Val rubbed her daughter’s back, the screams turned to sobs, then gasps and body shudders. Madie’s breathing normalized and she began to hiccup. Val tilted the baby’s face up to hers. She stared deep into her daughter’s eyes. “What’s got you so scared?” Bad dreams were one thing, but the sheer terror on Madie’s face unnerved Val. “How about a warm bath?” She stripped the baby, but as soon as she ran the water, her daughter started to scream again. “Okay, no bath.” Shutting off the water, the young mother hurried back to the bedroom, carrying her daughter, along with a warm wet cloth and towel. There she wiped down Madie and dried her, applying cream to her bottom and inner thighs, with a fresh diaper and sleeper completing her efforts. “How about some warm milk? Hmm?” Val asked and carried the baby into the kitchen to warm up a bottle. A few minutes later, she settled on the couch to feed her night terror-stricken daughter. For a while, Madie relaxed but the storm had moved closer, and with each boom, she tensed and tightly grasped Val’s fingers. “It’s okay, baby girl. Just a noisy rainstorm. It won’t hurt you.” Exhausted, her daughter finally fell asleep halfway through her bottle. Val took her daughter back to bed, placing her daughter on her tummy. She covered her with the blanket, making sure to place her favourite stuffed toy beside her. Val smiled at the long-eared white bunny. Hopper was almost as big as Madie and when she was up, she carried it everywhere. Picking up a snow globe from a shelf, she wound its key, setting the timer for twenty minutes. The soft notes of Brahms’ Lullaby began to play. Val returned to her own room and cuddled under the covers. But sleep evaded her. It broke her heart to see Madie so terrified. I’m at my wits’ end. Maybe it’s time to talk to the doctor about it. Perhaps there are things we can do to help her. By we, Val meant she and her husband, Brad who was in Vancouver at a medical conference. He was due home in a couple of days. They both worked at the local hospital; she as a lab technician and Brad as a radiologist. Madie had been having the nightmares for a couple of months, whenever there was a storm. Normally, once down for the night, her daughter never woke up until seven in the morning. Outside, the rain pattered on the window, the worst of the storm over. Val heard a noise come through the monitor and listened to the sound of Madie sucking her thumb in her sleep. A quick plumping of her pillow and Val settled down again. She loved being a mother and being home with her daughter. Soon, she’d have to return to her job at the hospital. Luckily, her mother offered to babysit Madie when she and Brad worked the same shifts. The idea of leaving her daughter to return to work bothered her, though, especially on nights like this. It made her feel like she was abandoning Madie. And yet, here I am, unable to help her anyway when these episodes happen. Sometimes, I feel so inadequate as a mom. Yes, it’s time to take her to the doctor and get an opinion on what might be happening with her. I mean babies can’t talk; they have no awareness about the world beyond their family home. Feed them, change them, wash them, cuddle them, play with them, and love them; give them that and they’re happy. And Madie’s a happy child. Val frowned. Isn’t she? Maybe babies can have bad dreams about the family dog chewing their favourite stuffed toy or maybe getting shampoo in their eyes. But what kind of nightmares could cause such terror?