The Boy in The Bottle? A Dreamscape of Nighttime Terror

I hear moaning and mumbled words of protest from the boys’ room, but I don’t go in until the moaning turns to wailing. “No, nooo, I don’t want, I don’t…” Our eldest in in his bed, shaking violently and shielding his head from some unseen assailant. His fist flails out, narrowly missing the face of…