Lost At Sea

I wake from the nightmare in a cold sweat. My ruffled sheet has come away from the corners. Blankets entwine my legs in unyielding knots, and my memory-foam pillow bears the impression of clenched fingers.

My heart rate begins to slow and, no longer trapped in the dream, I try to get my bearings. I can hear the sound of the garbage truck approaching my street. In my dream it was the storm rumbling on the edge of an empty horizon.

I feel the solid wood of the bed head against my arm. Moments ago it was the side of my tiny row boat rocking on the vast, black void.

My hand overhanging the edge of the bed is being licked by a polite spaniel gently reminding me that it is his breakfast time. It is not the cold dorsal fin of a circling shark waiting to tip my small craft so it can feast.

The smell of salt on the air comes not from an endless ocean but from the kitchen as my wonderful partner cooks eggs for me and our son.

I sit up and blink away the last lingering feelings of helplessness, hopelessness and being unimaginably alone.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stroke Skip's soft head as he prances a little happy dance at my vertical state and its heralding of food.

As I unhook my dressing gown from the back of the door and wrap it around me, I hear Toby's little footsteps racing along the floorboards, getting louder as they approach, and I swing the door open as he falls into my arms. The dog gallops out of the doorway towards the kitchen.

Thin Spider-Man pyjamas cling to a compact frame as my son wriggles his hands into the warmth of my dressing gown sleeves and the tiny ice blocks with fingers grip my arms. We lock eyes and his wide smile mirrors mine as it always does during our familiar morning routine. The joy and intensity is always as if we have come together after a long absence, rather than a few unconscious hours.

"Mummy!" His beaming face is framed with hair sticking up in every direction, as though in sleep he has been experimenting with electrostatic fields.

The icy fingers caress my clammy arms and his expression changes to one of confusion. "Why are you all slimy?"

My heart bursts at his expression, and I pull him in for another cuddle. "I had a nightmare darling. You know how that can make you sweaty."

I take his hand and lead us both in the direction of the delicious aroma of sizzling bacon which has now joined the eggs.

"Yeah," he says soberly, then with concern. "Was it about Shredder from Ninja Turtles?"

I smile. "No sweetie. It was about being lost at sea with sharks all around."

His eyes widen. "That's pretty scary too. Were they robot sharks with lasers?"

"No, just the regular kind," I say.

He pats me on the leg in a comforting gesture as we enter the kitchen and see Rachael setting the last dish on the table of what looks like a gourmet buffet.

"Woah!" Toby shouts racing towards the eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast and orange juice on the table, all thoughts of sharks, robotic or otherwise, forgotten.

Rachael looks pleased at his reaction and ruffles his already wild hair. "Well it's a pretty special day little guy, you need to start it properly!"

She swaggers over and kisses me. "Breakfast is served, m'lady", she says with a proud grin and an exaggerated bow. It's not often she lets me sleep in and cooks, and she wants to enjoy my appreciation. I pull her into an embrace. "Thanks baby, it looks and smells amazing."

The now satisfied dog saunters away from his bowl licking his chops and takes his place at my feet as we all sit down to eat. I look at my little family with nothing less than rapture. It is the complete opposite of the feelings I was gripped by during sleep, but somehow I can't shake the lingering fear and anxiety beneath the surface. Something about the dream just won't leave me, and even with all the joy surrounding me, I can for some reason still feel the waves below the surface.

When the meal is over we all separate to ready ourselves for the day. I shower and dress as Toby puts on the clothes I laid out for him last night. I can hear him making up little songs excitedly to himself in his room.

I hear Rachael reminding him to make his bed and clean his teeth before he comes down.

I glance at the clock and realise the time. The anxious knot inside me tightens, my breathing hastens and I am once again rocking aimlessly on the endless sea. It's ridiculous, I know there is no need for this panic, but my body doesn't seem to understand. I take some deep breaths.

Toby jumps down the stairs with a huge grin in his smart new shirt, shorts and socks. My heart swells as I help him with his shoes. Rachael playfully plonks his hat down over his eyes. Skip leaps up at him and tries to lick any skin he can reach as Toby giggles and pushes him down.
It's a beautiful moment, and Rachael captures it for eternity on her iPhone before Toby and I rush out the door in a frenzy of hurried affection.

In the car my son and I begin an animated chat about expectations, excitement and Lego. I weave through the traffic and the dashboard clock reminds me we have only eight minutes to get there.

With two minutes to spare we arrive and park the car. We walk in the gate together hand-in-hand just as the first bell sounds. I bend down and look at my beautiful child who has been by my side, my little sidekick for the past five years, and is now about to start a new stage of his life.

I place a tender kiss on his forehead as my tears fall uncontrollably. "Have a wonderful first day of school darling," I say. He looks up at me, an embarrassed grin lighting his cheeky face. "Muuuum! Don't kiss me in front of the other kids!" He wraps his small arms around my neck and holds me tight. "Don't worry mummy, it's just a school. It's not scary. There are no sharks here."

He turns and runs into the crowd of children in the playground, the blue uniforms blending them together as they run, like a living, breathing ocean. I see my Toby adrift in the expansive swell floating away from the safety of my arms. I finally understand the terror of the dream as he is lost to the sea of change.

As much as I want more than anything to paddle towards him and scoop him back onto my raft, I know I cannot. Sink or swim, it is his journey. I watch as the current takes him away, and know that if I wait right here, it will also bring him back.