Junebugophobia

Last night I found myself standing in my bathroom getting ready for bed. I was brushing my teeth, although I wasn't really aware of my arm moving back and forth to make the brush stroke over my teeth. Instead, I was staring into the mirror above the sink, past the reflecting image of myself, and into the image of my dream from the night before.

In the past few months there have not been many nights that I haven't dreamt about Mom.

Half of the time they are good dreams; dreams of trips we took, conversation we had, times we spent just having fun.....all good memories. These kinds of dreams are so real that I spend the next day hanging on to every detail of them, hoping to discover yet another hidden memory in the dream's contents.

And then, there are the other 50% of my dreams about Mom. They are not like the good dreams I described above. No, these dreams are quite different. They are never the same, and never reflect anything that actually happened in Mom's lifetime. However, they all end the same way. They all end with my Moms death.

Sometimes its a car accident.

Sometimes its a fire.

Sometimes its a heart attack.

I once even dreamed she was struck by lightening.

Yes, I was standing there, trapped in the memory of the horrible dream I had had the night before, where my Mom had died on a camping trip. When my mind gets stuck thinking about these dreams I automatically end up thinking about the real reason my Mom died which leads to me dreaming it all over again the next night. 

My thoughts were headed there just as I heard 

*Click*

on the bathroom window.

(No, it was not prince charming throwing pebbles at my window :) )

I was jolted from my daze, and my toothbrush stopped mid-brush so I could listen.

*Click*

There it was again. Such a familiar sounding *click*.

*Click*


*Click*

I quickly spit my mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, rinsed my brush and mouth, and stood on the toilet so I could see out the window.

Just as my eyes focused on the darkness outside my window, I saw a little black spot moving towards my face, and I jumped back on reflex as it *Clicked* on the window right in front of my face.

A huge smile crossed my face as I realized why that *Click* sounded so familiar.

It was a June Bug!

The house my family had lived in for the past 11 years seemed to attract June bugs. They were always hitting our windows, making the same noise that had caught my attention just a few minutes before.

My mind was immediately pulled away from the horrible dream, and sent flying with the June bugs to a funny memory.

My Mom hated June bugs! Hated them. She hated the noise they made when they flew into things. She hated the crunching sound they make when you step on them. She honestly thought they were God's yuckiest creation.

The depressing images of the dream were replaced with images of Mom running down the sidewalk trying to escape the path of a June bug.....images of her face curling up in disgust when she accidently stepped on one.

*CRUNCH*

I then remembered my favorite June bug story with Mom. As soon as I thought about it I laughed out loud, and quickly covered my mouth in fear of waking up Pap and Grandma.

In the memory, we had friends over at our house, and had just come in from outside. Just as Mom walked in the door, my sister and I noticed that she had a June bug on her back. We looked at each other, and silently agreed it was best not to tell her about the creepy crawler on her back. I was about to go over and quickly flick the thing off her back (hopefully unnoticed by Mom) when a friend also saw the bug.

"Oh Karen," she said, "you have a..."

Jaime and I started frantically waving our arms trying to ger her attention. She got the hint, and stopped before uttering the words 'June Bug'.

She finished, "Oh never mind. Just hold very still."

She removed the bug and threw it out the door before Mom had a chance to see it.

Later that night when all our company was gone, Mom asked what had been on her back earlier. Jaime and I glance at each other again, and decided it was ok to tell her now since she was "out of danger" :)

Wrong.

As soon as the words left our lips, Mom gave a little shudder, shook her body as if she was trying to remove the bug that was no longer there, and yes -- she screamed.

*Click*

Another June bug hit the window in front of my face, and again jolted my out of a daze. I smiled at the memory, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed. I lay there listening to the *clicking* of my Mom's biggest fear on the bathroom window.

I rolled over, knowing that I wouldn't have to fall asleep worrying about what kind of dream I was going to have.

I already knew.

I was going to dream about June bugs.