Sleeping Beauty

The game my daughter most enjoyed playing when she was two was Sleeping Beauty. It was her favourite Disney film at the time and this is how we played it: I had to pretend to be asleep on the sofa and she would carry on playing as if I didn’t exist. She would trot around in her silky pyjamas, tiara and plastic princess shoes, reading books, doing jigsaws and building things with mega blocks until she got bored. Then she would clip-clop her way around the house, pretend to be surprised that I was on the sofa kiss me and demand that I wake up and talk to her. She was a child who needed to talk, so I was never left to sleep for very long but I would often consider how terrible it must have been to miss 100 years.

The First World War ended 100 years ago and it’s hard to comprehend how many changes there have been in that time. Last night I dreamt a modern day Sleeping Beauty story but from the perspective of what happens next. Her excitement about being awake soon turned to disappointment that it hadn’t been the war to end all wars and rapidly turned to confusion and fear, as she grappled to understand the world she lived in now.

I’m quite excited by dreams at the moment because I haven’t had many in the last six months. I did have one about shoving elephants in filing cabinets after my first EMDR session but normal weird confusing dreams that come from nowhere were just missing. The dreams that turn your experiences into metaphors that your brain can file away don’t seem to happen when you have PTSD.

Sleeping Beauty isn’t the Disney Princess I would choose. (It’s Belle, in case you are wondering. I’d do anything for all those books!) Maybe, though, my daughter, at two, was preparing me. I feel as though I have woken up and although I am still quite excited, reality is reminding me that there are things to be done and that this is my busy season.

There’s still loads to look forward to though because Aurora has three fairy Godmothers and lives happily ever after.