My Best Friend

January 14, 2007

as a child my best friend was pretty quiet. he didn’t talk much, and he didn’t talk to anyone but me. Mummy used to pretend she could hear him when she tucked us into bed at night, but we’d smile at each other and know she couldn’t. I always asked her to shoo his bad dreams out the window as well as mine though. And if one of them got back in through the crack in the curtains he’d be right there with me, and he’d tell me stories of magical lands to make me smile until i could go back to sleep. He still sits by my bed everynight as i sleep, and he knows he’ll always be my best friend in that place between sleep and awake. My new best friend pats him on the head as he walks past and climbs into bed beside me, wrapping me safely up in his arms, and i don’t need to shoo the bad dreams out of the window anymore.

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