Polar Bears? Who knows... (Peter, Aly, Louise)

[father-peter.livejournal.com]

Peter was dreaming. He was dreaming about nuns, which was one of those repressed fears that always eventually comes out courtesy of dreams, nightmares, or Deirdre telling everyone your secrets.

The nuns had sticks. Sticks for hitting. And they were chasing Peter through the hallways of Melk Abbey, whacking him on the bum with their sticks for hitting and Peter was yelping and no one was helping. In fact, they were laughing. Laughing instead of helping. And Robert, the giant palooka, was dancing with a polar bear. Which made sense, because Peter was viewing them from the window and they were outside. Of course there were polar bears outside Melk Abbey in the middle of spring.

The nuns weren't happy with the polar bear, however, and one leaned out the window to abuse it. It screamed back abuse in Spanish, only part of which Peter caught. Something about love being love...

Peter finally managed to find a room with a door that opened, and he slammed the door behind him, shutting out the nuns and the sticks and the polar bear and Robert duo. And he leaned against the door, breathing deeply. Someone was on the bed, and she sat up slowly, giving Peter a sweet smile.

"Mum. The nuns are after me!"

Louise smiled at Peter, a perfectly kind and loving expression that he missed so much. "Only because you present them with such a squealy target."

"I can't help it, they hurt me!" Peter squealed.

Louise stood and she crossed the small room, touching Peter's cheek gently. "They won't hurt you, Peter. Not any more. They're not chasing you anymore."

Peter blinked. "And..the polar bear...?"

"That one I can't explain. Wake up, Peter." Louise reached out to cover Peter's eyes and there was blackness.

And then the morning light pierced his eyes and Peter sat bolt upright in bed. Aly moved slightly beside him. "Mmm. Bad dream?" She mumbled at him, worriedly.

"Heh..." Peter sat there, stunned for a second, and then he covered his eyes and he laughed. It was a kind of manic laugh that threatened to give way to tears but didn't by the thinnest of thin margins. "Nuns!" He managed to squeak.

"N...nuns?"

"Later!" Peter slid out of bed after kissing his wife's cheek. Right now, he needed coffee. Coffee and baby snuggles. Still, for a seer who had had months and months of terrifying vision of the future and what lie ahead, dreaming of nuns chasing him and his mother reassuring him that everything was okay? That was a dream that was just fine with Peter Kemp.