“Mum, can I sleep in your bed? I had a nightmare.”

Awoken by my son‘s voice, I check the alarm clock. 6:49. Thank god it’s so early. I know him long enough to know he won’t go back to sleep for the rest of the night. At least he got a good nights sleep.

”Yes, what was it about?”

I heard from my friends that talking to your kids about nightmares can help them psychologically. My son tucks himself into the bed.

“This kid, he had a pet bird. It got run over by a car. It died, but the kid still pretended it was alive. It was like an imaginary friend.”

That explanation made me turn my head to him in shock. How similar the nightmare was to his reality was unnerving. Looking back, I believe it was his subconscious mind telling him to stop the delusion and finally acknowledge she was dead.

However, that alone did not make me finally admit to him the truth. That his companion, the one who gave him the most unconditional love, was dead and has been dead for months. That his fragile psyche couldn’t handle the loss. That all the recent memories he had with her was all his imagination.

It was what he said next:

“Dad, where’s mum?”