At 2:41 am, Evelynn came into our room. "I had a dream." I asked her if it was a bad dream. "No, it was a good dream, but it was really scary." And this is the narrative of her dream:
I had a dream about a mouse. The farther away I was the louder it would hiss at me. Really loud. I couldn't get away from it. It was the mouse that was in our kitchen. I wanted to sneak up and catch him and throw him outside like you did. Are you scared of the mouse, Mom? I was. He wouldn't be quiet. See my socks? I woke up and put these on so I could catch the mouse. The socks make my feet not sticky on the floor, so they don't make noise. I got back on the bed, but I couldn't catch him. I looked around my room and he's not there either. It was a scary dream because of the mouse. It was good because when I waked up I couldn't find him. I want to go back to sleep to dream about something else. I want to dream about getting hot chocolate with Daddy. It was so good. I loved it. That would be a really good dream, right?
When she woke up this morning she told me she had her dream about drinking hot chocolate. My mouse episode, however, has made quite the impression to give her bad dreams. But what child has a bad dream and then gets up to look for the monster in her bedroom before coming to Mom and Daddy?
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