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Nightmares

  • Thread starter Thread starter Robert Harrison
  • Start date Start date
R

Robert Harrison

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Time for bed our Bobby.

No mom, not yet, it’s only six o’clock.

Come on, school tomorrow.

Mom, please, please
It really is only six o’clock,
And dad’s not home with the Daily Mail
And I want to read Rupert the Bear.

Bobby, off to bed, you can read
Rupert tomorrow.

But mom the
Hand will get me.
It does every night.

Oh don’t be silly; it’s only a dream.

No mom, it’s not, it’s real,
It’s really real.
It creeps up my legs
And up my belly.
And mom, I can’t shout you.

Mom, don’t leave till I’m asleep.

She doesn’t.

But the hand still comes.
 
God almighty...how much more powerful can a poem get?
And how much more sadder?
 
Sort of reminds me when Keith was little, he had a very active imagination and the monsters that lived in the wall would come out in the small hours to frighten him. The Cure? ..........I had to do battle with these monsters for a few nights and gradually kill more and more of them until we had wiped them out. I went in the bedroom while he held the door shut and I would bang about and ruffle my hair up a bit and make suitable fighting noises. Keith would then get into bed and eventually the problem went away. :crazy2: I tell yer wat though, they were nasty little blighters.
 
I hope I'm wrong Rod but I didn't read that poem as 'Monsters of the mind'
 
:angel: I'm not sure what Robert was meaning in his poem... But my Mom had two stepfather's in her life. One was known as old Joe (Joseph) by my Mom and The Aunts and the other was known as 'Little Tommy Tickle Mouse' (Thomas). I wasn't until doing the family research and asking my sister to visit my Mom's eldest sister, did we find out why Tommy had that nick name... Very sad no wonder my Mom had demons. That is just one incident among many in her past, she had a very sad childhood.

Chris :angel:
 
Ahhh it's probably me..I just see through a glass darkly..
Absolutely incredibly powerful poem though..
 
Well, the poem is intriguing. I first thought it was the boy's own hand - you know, feeling guilty about his first sexual stirrings. But then again, was it something more sinister? An unwelcome visitor? :-\ Very sad if this was the case and it is a true memory.
 
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