Love

Sigh.

Love, love, love. Love, love, love.

Isn’t that how that Beatles song goes?

Jacob was having one of his nightmare things last night, a light one. From out of sleep he joined us in the living room Larry surfing playoff hockey, basketball and watching some Blue Jays too.

To distract him from his brow scrunching bad visions Larry told him the Blue Jays were winning 4-2 in the 8th. In response Jacob switched his bad dream vocalizations to numbers. Six-six, four-two, he mumbled with more anxious trepidation, the numbers taking on the same bad meanings.

Our strategy to help him out was talking to him in normal voices he wasn’t hearing very well because of the dominating bad dream interference going on his head. I said, leave the door open, as he left the living room to return to bed. But he was closing it so I repeated it until he heard.

If there’s anything you need just call, I said. Then fast he said, love. I need love.