A short story:
There used to be a small pink chandelier hanging in the center of my 5 year old daughter Kaylin's bedroom...
One night back in 2003, Kaylin had just been tucked in for the night when my wife suddenly discovered that Kaylin's night light bulb was burned out -- and wouldn't you know it, we didn't have a replacement bulb in the house. Given that Kaylin was afraid of the dark, we suddenly found ourselves with a bit of a situation until my wife discovered that by adjusting the dimmer switch on Kaylin's chandelier to its lowest setting, a suitable glow of light was cast over the room. And so it was, an uneventful year of bedtimes went by while we relied upon the small pink chandelier to perform extra-duty as a nightlight. And all was well during the night - that is, until the night of January 14, 2004.
*****
It was the middle of the night and Nola and I were sleeping soundly when Kaylin suddenly called out from her bedroom, “Daaaaaddy?!" A few moments later, standing beside Kaylin's bed, she told me the reason for her distress was a bad dream.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it” she replied, followed by the sweetest little request: “Will you lie down with me?”
Although I don't remember doing so, I clearly obliged because I woke up some time later in Kaylin's bed. The only problem was, I had no idea where I was. We had moved three times in the past eight years, having only been in the current house for less than a year, so perhaps a sudden case of amnesia was justified. Nevertheless, within a matter of seconds, the complete lack of recognition as to where I was progressed into a full-blown panic attack like nothing I had ever experienced. For lack of a better description, my head felt like it was going to explode. And even though the amnesia probably lasted for less than five seconds, it felt like an eternity before I suddenly remembered waking up earlier in the night to the sound of Kaylin's calls and going to her room. I'm in Kaylin's bed, I realized, feeling the most amazing and indescribable relief I had ever felt. Unfortunately, the relief was short-lived because no sooner did I experience it, I was suddenly overwhelmed by extreme paranoia: If I'm in Kaylin's bed then where is Kaylin? My heart skipped several beats while the paranoia quickly intensified: Oh my God. I've accidentally smothered my daughter in my sleep. Expecting the worst, I was only partially relieved to discover my sweet little child laying in the bed beside me. Is she breathing? My fears weren't allayed until I leaned in close enough to see that she was indeed breathing. Okay. Okay. Everything is okay, I reassured myself as I rolled back onto my back and looked around the room for a second time. How strange that I had looked around moments earlier and hadn't recognized a thing. Of course, now that the amnesia had passed, as I glanced around the room I recognized every little detail without the least bit of difficulty: the bookshelves, the pictures on the wall, the stuffed animals, the chandelier. My eyes settled on the chandelier -- its five little bulbs dimly twinkling in the darkness. I knew exactly what I was looking at however there was something strangely familiar about the alignment of the bulbs. What is it? I wondered as I stared for the longest time before a sudden shift in perception revealed the solution to my quandary: the twinkling bulbs formed the outline of a human body with individual points of light at the head, the hands and the feet. It was a beautiful sight to behold. And it came with a remarkable feeling of euphoria, and a sense of certainty that the sweet little constellation I was gazing upon was universally recognized as a symbol of humanity. I didn't doubt or question the veracity of the information. I simply got up, returned to my room, and crawled into bed beside my sleeping wife. How incredibly blessed I felt for having had such an amazing experience. And I fell asleep. At least I think I did until I suddenly heard my daughter screaming in terror.
“DADDY!!!”
How long I had been sleeping, I had no idea. The intensity and urgency of the scream was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It ripped me from my slumber and propelled me down the hall to Kaylin's bedroom doorway whereupon I found myself greeted by stone-cold silence. Was it all in my head? Peering into the silent darkness, I was almost convinced of this.
“What’s the matter?” I asked quietly, just in case the scream had been a figment of my imagination.
“My night light is off” she calmly replied.
How strange? How could Kaylin have shrieked for her life in one moment, only to calmly speak in the next? I never gave voice to the thought because just as I was wondering, I suddenly clued in to the fact that her room was indeed pitch black. No sooner did I realize this, I reached beside the door frame for the dimmer switch and pressed the on-off button. I heard a 'click' but nothing happened. I pressed the button again and this time when I heard the "click' the lights came on. How strange? The chandelier had somehow gone out and stayed out, even though the switch never moved from the “on” position. This had never happened before, and incidentally, it has never happened again. In fact, even in situations of black-outs, the chandelier always comes back on as soon as the power is restored. So, whatever happened on the night of January 14, 2004, was an anomaly. And there was nothing more to do than accept it as such as I crawled back into bed beside my daughter for the second time that night. I knew it wouldn't be long before she would be soundly asleep, so I layed there and gazed once again at that beautiful floating symbol of humanity. And that's when the penny suddenly dropped: my daughter had been screaming in terror because the lights had gone out on humanity. The realization hit me with a wave of chills that ran mercilessly up and down my spine.
*****
An interesting side note:
For the first five years of Kaylin’s life, my work hours were consistently long, erratic and unpredictable – thus, Kaylin learned at an early age that “Mommy” was the one parent who could always be relied upon to respond to her calls in the night. That said, by January of 2004, Kaylin was well-accustomed to waking up in the night and going to the bathroom. The only problem was, Kaylin was afraid of the dark – so she needed an escort. Thus, for several years, Nola had always been the one to respond to Kaylin’s nightly calls for "Mommy." In fact, it was only on the rarest of occasions when Nola was too tired to get up, that Nola would nudge me and ask if I could take Kaylin to the bathroom. That said, what was it on this particular night that caused Kaylin to suddenly call out twice for “Daddy?" Furthermore, given the history I’ve just described, how is it possible that Nola managed to sleep through both of Kaylin’s calls for help? Never once had she ever slept through a call for "Mommy." Never. And oddly enough, in the days and weeks that followed, Kaylin immediately returned to her regular routine of calling for “Mommy."
*****
Okay. So what does it all mean?
As far as my understanding at the time was concerned, the experience of January 14 told me I wasn’t alone, I was on the right track, and the part about the lights going out on humanity seemed to suggest a sense of urgency. Beyond that, I hadn’t a clue. I had been working for several years to align my intentions with love and to master the negativity that I felt had mastered me for much of my life. So January 14 was looked upon as a physical form of confirmation and encouragement as opposed to the kind I often “received” with words. Also, as far as the timing was concerned, I had just barely recovered from a traumatic experience I had suffered a week earlier. And in the wake of this traumatic experience, January 14 was looked upon as a beautiful gift.
Here is one of the symbols I was inspired to create as a direct result of this experience:
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