The Lost Compass

The other night my son woke up screaming. He was having a nightmare. As tears streamed down his face I did my best to hold him. Console him. As he tried to catch his breath through heart wrenching sobs he told me what was upsetting him so much. He told me that he had lost his compass. I was lost. What compass?

'My compass!' he shouted. 'My old compass. The compass my daddy gave me. It's lost. Forever. I want it back!'

I have to admit that I had no idea what he was talking about. Had his dad given him an old compass? I asked him what he thought happened to the compass.

'I think I gave it away. To a friend. I want it back. '

I asked him who he had given it to?

'I don't remember!!! My compass. It's gone. Daddy gave it to me. It was old. It had rust on it. I gave it away. I lost it. I want it back.'

I remembered having a couple compasses. I described these and asked if these were the ones he had lost.

'No! Those are new. The one I lost is old. Rusty. From my Dad.' His cries took over his voice. Words were impossible.

I held him. I rocked him. I told him that everything was going to be ok. I told him that I would help him look for his compass in the morning. I was grasping at straws. I felt helpless. I was clinging to him as much as he held on to me. I was able, eventually, to calm him down. He sniffled and snuffled in my arms and his breathing became more steady. Regular. He was almost ready to go back to sleep. As his eyes began to droop closed, he said that there was another thing that was bothering him. I asked him to tell me what it was.

'I see my daddy going down a long dark tunnel. You are going down another tunnel and my sister is going down another. I'm not sure what tunnel to go down. Who should I follow. Should I go with one of you or am I supposed to go down my own tunnel? By myself?'

Ok. I was floored. My son is six. 6. What the Fuck? I got him to start to think about things that would make him smile. I sang a couple silly songs. He giggled. He turned his face toward my chest and fell asleep. The next day, nothing more was mentioned about the lost compass or dark tunnels.

What am I to think about this? Freud and his ilk would have a field day to be sure. I know that my son misses his dad. I know that he hasn't seen him much lately. Xman has been too busy. My son did, however, see xman briefly on Easter Sunday. The nightmare occurred the next night. Ok. My son feels a bit lost. Directionless. I get that. It appears that my son also has an inner well of metaphor deep within him out from which his subconscious draws understanding. I find this to be both extremely cool and vaguely disconcerting.

How do I feel? I feel that I'm doing the best that I can. I feel that I'm living day to day to the utmost. I feel that I'm groping down a long dark tunnel without a compass.