Things that go bump in the night

Katie with Hannah when they were both young.
Only pleasant dreams for my little girls.

Back when I was younger, I had a nightmare. The Twilight Zone was a much-anticipated show each week on television. I could still hear Rod Serling say in his deep voice at the end of each psychological thriller, "This is The Twilight Zone." One episode was particularly horrifying. The Caterpillar was about an ear whig that entered the ear of a man, ate away at his brain over the course of the show and came out the other ear. I watched that episode with my parents and when I woke the next morning there was a spider crawling in my hair. I think I learned how to perfect a good scream that day.

I must have also learned how to express my feelings in a story. In school, the teacher asked us to write in our journals and I recapped my morning. She was so alarmed by the tale that she phoned my parents to ask why they would allow a girl to watch such a show. I am no longer a fan of horror stories, but honestly, I wasn't spooked by the show. I was simply terrified of a spider whispering something in my ear and a coincidence that was way too much to bear.

Some people remember their dreams. I'm glad I don't know what my bizarre mind is up to eight hours every night. And I'm glad that scary dreams do not pay me a visit that often. Last night, though, I had another nightmare. I woke in shock, remembering the most vivid and strange dream of my dog Hannah. I could not close my eyes again for hours.

Hannah was born in our kitchen in a makeshift birthing bed, lined with towels. Her mom, Babs, was a rescue dog my daughter found one day. Babs was not only in need of a loving home, but she was also pregnant. Hannah was one of her four babies. Cosmo and Russell were adopted by our close friends, and Alice went to the librarian's home.

Hannah sleeping peacefully on top of one of her brothers

My pick of the litter, Hannah, never knew from the horrors of a puppy mill, a foster home, or even a crate. She was a happy little girl, so soft, so funny, and the joy of our family for many years. Hannah lived to be almost 17 years old, which translates to 119 years of a human life.

To my way of thinking, we gave Hannah a home for 17 years and she gave us back 119 years of pure, unconditional love. Not a bad return on such a short investment. Everyone should have a pet.

Anyway, back to the nightmare. We put Hannah to sleep this year, a loss that left a hole in my heart. Murray, the dog who sleeps with me now, makes sure I only think of him 24 hours a day, so as hard as it was, I recovered from my grief. Hannah was not suffering anymore. She was not scared anymore. I can't imagine why her presence would haunt me in the early hours of the morning.

Last night, I dreamt that Hannah was caught in a window and the glass cut her badly. As it happens in dreams, people and places are connected in unexpected ways to tell a story that somehow needs to be told. In my dream, Kelly Engles, a teacher from school caught my sweet puppy and cradled her in blankets to wait for me. In my mind and in my arms, I was holding Hannah again last night. Her fur was as real, as silky, and as soft as it always was. I woke up startled and spooked beyond reason. I could still feel her warm body in my arms as I sat up in bed. She was there. She was really there. I have no idea why Kelly Engles paid me a visit in the night, but Hannah came back to me in my dreams.

As a fan of Theresa Caputo, the Long Island Medium, I am pretty sure there is another plane of existence to this world. I'd really like to think that my mom is out there somewhere keeping my family safe. One crazy night, I woke to a clock reading 1:11 am. I closed my eyes and opened them again at 2:22, then 3:33 and 4:44. I never saw the 5 o'clock hour because I jumped out of bed shaking, too spooked to go back to sleep. Who was visiting me then, Theresa? Another spider? My mom with a message I could not understand?

I am much too logical for this. I just hope Hannah is resting in peace somewhere, and I get a good night's sleep. Sweet dreams, my friends.