"Mom!" I yelled, waking up from my nightmare, "Mom!" I yelled again.
"What is it?" she asked, running into my room, "What's wrong?"
"I had a nightmare," I told her. I was only five.
She let out a sigh of relief and sat on my bed with me, "You know you can't get hurt by your dreams."
"I know," I mumbled.
"What was it this time?" she asked.
"It's the same as the last ones," I told her.
"Where the robots come from the sky?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Have I ever told you about the traveling man?"
"Who's the traveling man?"
"There's a man," she began, "that will keep you safe no matter what?"
"But what if he dies?" I asked.
"Even if he dies 507 times, he will save the day," she assured me, "So next time you have a nightmare, just think of the traveling man."
"Everything all right in here?" my dad asked from the doorway.
"Everything's fine, just a nightmare," my mom explained.
"Ahhhhhh.."
"But I'm alright now," I told him, "the traveling man will make all my bad dreams go away."
"He will?" my dad said, giving my mom a glance.
"Mhmmmm," I replied, getting back underneath my covers.
"Why don't we let her get some sleep?" my mom said.
"Yes, quite right. Goodnight dear," he said, kissing my forehead. My mom followed suit.
"Goodnight Lily."
"Goodnight mom, goodnight dad," I put a hand on their grave. I placed a bouquet of roses on their grave. My mom would've found the gesture funny. I read their grave on last time.
Here lies
John Smith
and his loving wife
Rose Smith
Where are you now traveling man?