Brian's Art

I was able to get some pictures off of Brian, even one he made for me. I wasn't allowed to post ones that had his name on, so I only took the ones I was allowed to have. They are strange, and very disturbing for me. I hope he gets through his nightmares.

 This was the first one he did; he made many of these over and over again. Same symbol, same colors. He was very urgent about them, and nearly screamed when he showed them to me, telling me they were important. How, I do not know. However, I recognize this symbol from the snake hallucination Alice had about a month ago.

 He drew this when I asked him to show me what the Tailor looked like in his dream. I asked him to draw a face, or some hair on him but Brian seemed set on him remaining faceless. He added the blood in last, I'm not sure if it was a mistake on his part or not, but its definitely like the dream he told me about.

Lastly, is this. It seems even though the nightmare scared him, he was still able to draw some birds for me. Apparently my love of birds rubs off on others. They are rather cute, aren't they?

Nightmares

Life has been normal for the most part, it's been uninteresting even in terms of Bird Watching. However, today something rather disturbing was brought to my attention by Brian. He told me that he had a bad dream last night, and the night before last night. I know this is usual for children, but it is what he told me the dream was about. He said, "a tall tailor with scissors for hands." It's not hard to figure out where his brain dug this nightmare up from. I then asked him what the tailor did in his dreams, thinking it had to do with the poem.

Instead, he told me that the tailor did nothing to him. The dream he had two nights ago was simply him looking out a window at the tailor, and last night it was the same only this time the tailor was closer. He was very shaken by telling me this, and even started crying. Of course, I felt very guilty as it's my doing he knew the poem anyway. When his parents came to get him, I explained to them about the dream after some difficulty and they blew me off. I'm very concerned for Brian, even though I know it's simply a dream that comes with childhood I couldn't help but beat myself up about it.


What was such a story doing in a day care, anyway?

Reading

Well, I was able to leave a little bit earlier than yesterday. As I said, my shift isn't exact, so expect variations in when I post these updates. Today was the day I was to read to the kids, and they let me pick a book out of a little bookshelf they had. I decided to pick the oldest book they had sitting on the shelf, it looked worn and unused for some time. The book I chose was 'Der Struwwelpeter', and the title itself was vaguely in my memory. I looked through the table of contents and read the only narrative poem that looked familiar. I'll share it with you.

The Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb

One day, Mamma said, "Conrad dear,
I must go out and leave you here.
But mind now, Conrad, what I say,
Don't suck your thumb while I'm away.
The great tall tailor always comes
To little boys that suck their thumbs.
And ere they dream what he's about
He takes his great sharp scissors
And cuts their thumbs clean off, - and then
You know, they never grow again."

Mamma had scarcely turn'd her back, The thumb was in, alack! alack!

The door flew open, in he ran, The great, long, red-legged scissorman. Oh! children, see! the tailor's come And caught our little Suck-a-Thumb.

Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go; And Conrad cries out - Oh! Oh! Oh! Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast; That both his thumbs are off at last. Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands, And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;- "Ah!" said Mamma "I knew he'd come To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb." Afterward, I was able to talk to some of the kids as they were doing various little projects. I was able to meet Brian, who was drawing some sort of picture. He didn't seem out of the ordinary at all, just a little shy. He told me he liked the poem, and added with a smile, 'I think I've met that Tailor,' and he showed me his fist with his thumb hidden. It was amusing, and when I looked at the picture it didn't seem out of the ordinary at all. Whatever the tour guide said about him being strange, I certainly don't see. (But then again aren't we all a little strange?)