I slept relatively soundly last night, but the Little Ditchman did not. Woke up crying at 4:30 and my wife rolled out and handled it. I have know idea what she did or what was going on, but this morning there was no mention of it. Just a happy little clan sitting on the couch watching the Little Einsteins. I had some coffee. Then we played with the Legos.

I hate the thought that my two-year-old could have things in her head that trouble her enough to wake her from sleep. From where do these things come, these dark thoughts and selfish visions that leave her lonely and afraid at night's middle? Somehow they return to their dark place -our minds have some ability to forget them- so we can live in the sun without fear of that unknown.

I dreamt I killed a whale the other night. It was a fearsome thing, but most disturbing was the round of protest I received from all who knew me. They were outraged I had done such an awful thing to such an awesome creature. The authorities were on their way, and I felt the need to hide the carcass. Hide a dead whale? I woke myself. It was the only escape.

May our daily deeds and doings be the opposite of those that are done by the strange, small demons who come overnight. May we have insight and honor, and the ability to articulate hope in spite of what the world presents to us.


~