Sweet Dreams

There’s no greater thrill than a giant parcel on Christmas morning…

It’s Christmas Day! At last it is the day she has been waiting for. It is still dark and very quiet in the house but as she squints to see the end of the bed she knows. He has been! She can see her big pillowcase which was draped last night, empty, over the end of the bedstead. It is now leaning against the wall, stuffed with presents. She wriggles her toes and can feel something large and heavy off the end of the bed.

She pushes down the eiderdown and crawls over the bed to the end. When she presses on the pillowcase it rustles and squeaks, and she can see an orange beginning to topple out.

Dare she get up? If she is very, very quiet she can creep out of bed and poke the large parcel and try to guess what it is. It is really cold in the room, she can see her breath as she crawls out and stands on the freezing lino, trying hard not to make a noise and disturb her parents through the open doors.

They had called “Goodnight, God bless and see you in the morning” as they left the room last night, and she can hear a little snore from their bedroom.

The parcel is huge! She feels carefully round the red tinselly paper. There are two bits sticking out on top, with ribbons tied on and – yes!

Yes! Yippee! A tricycle! It must be! She asked Father Christmas for it, wrote it right at the top of the list with a huge PLEASE! Then she had left it last night on the rug in front of the open fire, with a glass of sherry and a mince pie, and Father Christmas has brought it for her.

She is so excited that she tears at the paper, not caring any more about noise, and she struggles with her treasure on the floor. She climbs onto it, tucking her Viyella nightie up round her legs, and cycles like mad through the door, along the landing, and into her parent’s bedroom, ringing the little bell crazily.

Her mother and father laugh and jump out of bed to hug and kiss her, they are so happy to see her excitement.

“What time do you call this?” Daddy asks, laughing. “It’s only four o’clock in the morning. Come here, you little tinker.” He tries to lift her off the tricycle, but she hangs on stubbornly.

Mummy flings a dressing gown on and tells them both to put theirs on quickly, and come to see what else Father Christmas has brought. She can hear Jingle Bells playing, and sounds of people talking and singing…

With a jump, she realises that tears are rolling down her cheeks. Her head has slipped off the cushion. She shakes herself awake, sits up and tries to pull her cardigan straight, to make herself more comfortable.

She wipes away her tears with the back of her hand and waves away the nurse who has hurried over.

It is her favourite nurse, Dottie, so she allows her to reposition her and replace the rug over her knees.

“That better?” Dottie asks, an anxious look in her eyes.

“Just a dream, my dear,” she says. She blinks and gazes round the dayroom at her friends, some also asleep, others watching her, smiling, from their armchairs.

She stares at the big Christmas tree in the corner of the room twinkling with lights and shiny decorations.

Jingle Bells is playing on the television very loudly; all the guests in the studio are having a party, many of them in fancy dress with party hats and squeakers, dancing and singing. Her friends are joining in when they know the words.

They are all holding a cracker, which they are waiting to pull when the mince pies arrive with the afternoon tea.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” she calls out, lifting her glass of fruit punch to toast them.

They call “Merry Christmas!” in chorus back to her. They are all content together, remembering times gone by, and sharing their own golden memories of childhood days.