Day 143,

Wound up playing the role of adult comforting a distressed child today.  Not sure how well I did, but I think I at least didn’t make it worse.

The plan going in this morning was that the first half of the day would proceed as normal, and then after recess we’d give the paired tutoring its trial run.  Overall that basically happened and went well enough, save for the expected complications of trying something new.  Less expected was that one of the children, Saffron,  who’s normally enthusiastically engaged with her lessons, spent the morning uncharacteristically withdrawn and distracted.

When she didn’t even get up to join the others for the lunchtime recess I decided that something was wrong enough to warrant my intervention.  Leaving Cass to supervise the rest (or at least watch and come get me if anything comes up; it does feel wrong at times putting a twelve year old in charge of so much, the more wrong the more I stop to think about it really) I took Saffron aside and asked what was bothering her.  It took some coaxing, and encouragement that she wouldn’t get in trouble, whatever it was, but she eventually admitted with a hint of embarrassment that it was “just a bad dream.”

Acting on a hunch, context, and personal experience, I told her that I had a bad dream last night myself that left me anxious and tired - as much as I tried not to show it - and proceeded to describe the Catacomb Depths.  The endlessly winding grave-filled tunnels, some ornate, some dirty-covered.  The eerie sourceless light.  The vast bottomless chasms spanned by a web of bridges.  The claustrophobia.  The sense of being there, sharp and alert as any waking moment.

I can’t say if her eyes went wide at my description, for my own gaze drifted off of her and became unfocused as I began to go into details, but her voice had a tremor to it - awe or fear I can’t say - as she asked how I knew.  The sound of her question snapped me back to the here and now.  I blinked, returned to an attempt at friendly eye contact and gave a smile that I hoped was reassuring rather than unnerving.  I told her that I had the same dream last night, and every mist night.  That it’s something that happens to everyone at some point or another in their lives, unless you’re an outsider and then you have to deal with it all the time.  That it’s okay and normal to be scared of it and be upset afterward, and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  That it’s really easy to get fooled into thinking it’s real while it’s happening - I still do sometimes - and spend the next day or two remembering what the fear felt like and worrying that the next time you blink you might end up back there.  That despite all that, it’s not real and there’s no danger of getting stuck there.

She asked how I deal with it.

I said that talking to someone about it or writing it down helps.  Takes the bad feelings and blows them away out into the air or locks them up in the paper.  Also, finding something you like to do and focusing on it so the fears don’t have any room to stay in your head.  And if nothing else, the knowledge that it will get better after a few days makes it easier to bear.

Just above a whisper, she said she’s not supposed to talk about the Catacombs.  No one is.

I forced a laugh and said I’m an outsider; things I’m not supposed to are what I do best.  Like I said, she won’t get in trouble for anything she tells me and I always have time for my students’ worries.  Seeing that she still looked unsure, I declared that paper over air for now it is and led her down to the archive’s storage room to give her a few sheets of paper and a pen.  Let her know that the paper was hers to write or draw whatever she wanted on it, whether it be about her dreams or something more fun.  Or boring like a list of chores if she reeeaaally wants to.  The attempted humor of that last bit at least got a positive reaction from her.  At least, I’m counting objecting to that suggestion in a brighter tone than before and calling me silly as a positive reaction.

The rest of the kids returned, only slightly damp this time, not too long after we returned to the entry hall/classroom.  At least Saffron got a chance to eat her lunch.

Is saffron even a plant or spice they have here?  Or is this a weird outsider translation thing happening again, converting a word for the color?