Saturday

It’s Saturday today. I think everyone is up except me. I try to get up but my pants are heavy. It’s happened again. After four solid years I managed to wet the bed again! I can already hear people talking about me behind my back, “The Head Prefect wet the bed!”

I admit it, about four years ago, when I was nine, I had a problem controlling my urinary system. I’d just let go and as a result I wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed. I’d sleep on the floor.

What people don’t understand is that when one wets the bed, you genuinely dream about the toilet. It’s basic philosophy: sometimes one can’t tell the difference between a dream and a waking experience. Sometimes dreams feel so real, very vivid: the seat is even up and so you just let go. When you realise that you’re still in bed, it’s too late.

But you see it’s understandable if a drug addict or alcoholic relapses after a couple of years. I guess that’s likely to happen, right?

Wetting the bed? No, no, no! I’ve never believed in the supernatural or magic, but this is witchcraft! I’m now scratching my head and I’m trying to make sense of it all. How could it be, after all these years?

I’m lost in thought. What am I going to tell Mom?

I stop for a moment and finally it all comes back to me: “… brace yourselves. It only gets worse from here.”

Gran’s words! It all makes sense now. It’s the salt. The bad luck. I’m cursed. But still … a part of me refuses to believe in these superstitions.

I get out of bed and there’s the familiar, shapeless piss-mark I last saw four years ago. I feel cold now. I walk slowly towards the lounge where everybody is. No-one seems to notice me and my wrinkled, wet pyjamas.

I try to get Mom’s attention: “Ma!”

Still no-one takes note of me.

Then I can’t help but notice the sugar on the floor. Someone must’ve spilled it. The TV is on, SABC 2 – Morning Live – like every other morning, but it’s not Leanne today. She doesn’t come in on weekends.

On the table I see a stack of lottery tickets. FYI, superstition holds it that, if you accidentally spill sugar, it means that good fortune is coming your way! So you can already tell why Mom and Gran are so eager to play the lottery today.

Little bro is sitting quietly and seems to be fascinated by whatever it is that is going on between Gran and Ma. I’ve never seen him this still – except at the Barney show last year – so it must be interesting, this thing.

I try again, “Ma?”

“Wait, not now,” she says.

“Come on dear, think. What else did you see in the dream?” I hear Gran say.

Mom seems to be thinking very hard. “I’m not sure if it was a horse or a cow, but it was black …”

“It was black you say?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then that’s a seven. Black animal is a seven.”

Ma ticks off the number ‘7’ on the lottery ticket. They seem to be matching dreams and numbers. This goes on for about 20 more minutes and by this time I am almost dry. Maybe I could keep quiet about my situation … but Mom makes the bed so she’ll notice the stain.

Smh!

I finally get some attention.

“Yes dear?” Mom says.

I don’t know how to tell everybody about my situation. It’s embarrassing.

“You were saying?”

“I dreamt about the toilet again but I promise it’s the salt! I even woke up to pee during the night. It’s the salt; Mommy it’s the salt!”

* * * * *

The day goes by fast. I’ve been preparing for tonight. The airbed is all pumped up and ready for me. Mom throws a pillow on the couch. I’m guessing that’s for me. I drag the coffee table to the corner and leave enough space for the airbed.

Mom comes rushing out of nowhere. She grabs the TV remote and increases the volume.

“6; 32; 14; 11 …”

“Arg!” she says in disappointment, “Who wins this thing?”

Gran had been certain that we would hit the jackpot today. Or maybe, maybe, the spilled salt is standing in the way of all the good that’s supposed to happen in our family, from all the spilled sugar.

I just don’t know what to believe anymore. Maybe Gran has it all wrong.

***

Tell us what you think: Can dreams guide you on what lottery numbers to buy?