There is no substitute for your impassioned prayers on behalf of your children

In the jumbled fragmented memories I carry from my childhood there are probably nearly as many dreams as images from waking life. I thought of one which might have been my earliest remembered nightmare. I was probably about four years old - I dont think Id started school yet - when I woke up screaming. The image I retained of the dream the thing which had frightened me so was an ugly clown-like doll made of soft red and cream-coloured rubber. When you squeezed it bulbous eyes popped out on stalks and the mouth opened in a gaping scream. As I recall it now it was disturbingly ugly not really an appropriate toy for a very young child but it had been mine when I was younger at least until Id bitten its nose off at which point it had been taken away from me. At the time when I had the dream I hadnt seen it for a year or more - I dont think I consciously remembered it until its sudden looming appearance in a dream had frightened me awake.When I told my mother about the dream she was puzzled.But whats scary about that You were never scared of that doll.I shook my head meaning that the doll Id owned - and barely remembered - had never scared me. But it was very scary I said meaning that the reappearance of it in my dream had been terrifying.My mother looked at me baffled. But its not scary she said gently. Im sure she was trying to make me feel better and thought this reasonable statement would help. She was absolutely amazed when it had the opposite result and I burst into tears.Of course she had no idea why and of course I couldnt explain. Now I think - and of course I could be wrong - that what upset me was that Id just realized that my mother and I were separate people. We didnt share the same dreams or nightmares. I was alone in the universe like everybody else. In some confused way that was what the doll had been telling me. Once it had loved me enough to let me eat its nose now it would make me wake up screaming. My Death