Bad enough to wake me up,
because she was afraid to sleep alone.
She usually crawls in bed with her sister.
It must have been bad.
She practically slept on top of me or held my hand.
When I got up,
she wanted to know,
"are you okay, Mom."
"What was your dream about?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
When Miss Brunette had a similiar thing happen,
she told me all about it.
Then,
I couldn't sleep. . . . .
