Calico Cruel Creeper

I dreamed that someone had  lovingly taken her child or grandchild’s drawing of monsters and made them into patchwork stuffed animals.  They were adorable.  Here’s one of them: bright red polkadot angular bizarre body, lumpish semi triangular sky blue head, odd sized eyes, big arms sticking out at odd angles with their own little cloth coverings.  They were all like that.  I loved everything about them.  They were cute.  The kid loved them too.

I was left wondering whether our very real fears are like a kid’s fears of monsters under the bed–can it really be that fear of death, of cancer, of betrayal, attack, injury, poverty, that all these are nothing more than figments?  I can’t believe that, but to the kid the boogey man in the closet is also real and terrifying.

Or are these terrors real enough in their way, though expressed through the childish mind of a real mortal, but someday we will find them transformed into something bright because they are cherished by a divine parent for our sake?