When I was little, just like many other kids, I used to wet the bed. Even though I usually went to the bathroom just before sleeping, it still happened from time to time. In my dream, I would find a toilet in a convenient location, sit on it, and let go of all the tension in the belief that I was sitting on a real toilet only to realize that I wasn’t. The moment I let go of my tension, a strangely warm sensation would spread under my back and wake me up to the reality – a bedding soaked with my own pee.
One summer night, I woke up from yet another dream of a toilet.
“Mommy, I’ve wet the bed!”
I called my mother for help. As soon as she heard me, she woke up and brought me a set of dry pajamas from the closet, and while I changed, she placed a thick layer of towels on the bed to cover the wet spot completely. Even though my mother was strict with many things, she never got angry with a wet bed.
“When I was small, my mother would also help me whenever I wet the bed.”
My mother explained to me as she quickly finished placing the towels on the bed and joined me in the living room where I was changing into the dry pajamas.
“Without any complaints, she would rearrange the bed so that I could sleep again.”
Wearing a clean set of pajamas, I was about to go back to bed to sleep when my mother stopped me.
“Do you want to eat an ice candy?”
It took a while for my brain to register what I had just heard. It was past midnight. My usually strict mother was offering me an ice candy at this hour after I had just wet the bed? What a strange turn of event that was?
But my mother was serious. She took out two ice candies from the freezer, one for me, one for herself. They were her favourite red bean ice candies. We sat in the kitchen and started to eat the ice candies. Both my father and brother were fast asleep, and the house was very quiet. Since we didn’t turn on the light, the kitchen was dimly lit by the street lights from outside. I thought to myself how surreal it was that my mother and I were eating ice candies in such an unusual environment.
“This feels special,” I said to my mother.
“It does, doesn’t it?” grinned my mother.
As we ate, my mother told me more about the memory from her childhood when she wet the bed. How a toilet would appear in her dream just before wetting the bed and how her mother was gentle with her when that happened. I listened to the story intently.
When we finally finished eating, my mother told me to go back to sleep, and I did. As I slid myself under the still warm blanket, I thought about the secret ice candy party I had just had with my mother in the kitchen once again. I wanted to make sure to remember the excitement of the rare midnight treat in my heart.