This is a history of mama? Not likely. Not about meds and beds, and bedbugs. More like a history of how we react to who we think she is.
Last night I dreamt I was sleeping in a department store. There were bugs and mice everywhere. Sound familiar? I dropped a pillow and when I tried to pick it up, something on the other side of the nightstand, pulled it back. A roach about 8 inches long was crawling on the sheets.
I was in a panic and there was only one other person around to help.....MAMA. I crept into her room; she was sleeping in the bedding department, naturally. I called her name over and over. Yeah, I knew she was old and tired, maybe even comatose. But I needed her. She finally answered in her irritated voice. She told me where the roach spray was. There was a hole in the wall and I sprayed into it, covering my own arms with cancer causing spray in the process. A wave of rats stumbled out.
Then I went under the nightstand. There was a whole family of mice. Spray Spray Spray. Kill Kill Kill.
And all because a praying mantis bit my thumb yesterday....No, that REALLY happened!