Butterscotch Kept the Nightmares Away

I had a random memory the other night when I whipped out a prompt journal and was asked to write down ten things that I could remember from my childhood room and what they meant to me. There was a pause as I struggled to come up with anything. Then I wrote down the name Butterscotch.

I couldn’t tell you how old I was when I got Butterscotch for Christmas. She was a long plush dog with a caramel-colored body and brown ears. But she meant more to me than most of my other stuffed animals because I believed she had a power.

See, I slept with this dog every night for years, and it seemed that on the nights that she stayed in my arms, I either had good dreams or woke up without knowing what I had dreamt. But the nights that I woke up from a nightmare, she was usually on my floor, having fallen off the bed at some point in my sleep. My child mind associated her location with the dreams. Butterscotch kept the nightmares away.

Here is where I have an admission. My adult mind hung onto that. I still slept with this poor stuffed dog, worn and old, into my twenties. And even though I would never say so aloud, I still had that belief that I had good dreams only when I was able to keep hold of her throughout the night.

Part of the habit was also that my arms were used to holding her, kind of like snuggling with a body pillow. When I finally decided to let Butterscotch go, it took me a while to figure out how to sleep comfortably because my arms were missing holding onto something comfy.

If you ask me now if that stuffed animal really had power over my dreams, I’d say, “Absolutely.” Because I gave her that power. The brain is such an amazing tool. If you believe in something hard enough, like I believed in her ability to chase off bad dreams, it can actually come true. Obviously, there are limits to this, but exactly how capable is my brain to control the outcome of certain things?

I’m starting to slip down the “I’m a terrible writer” hole again. It probably does not help that I’ve been feeling a bit of a wreck about other areas of my life, from the household chores to my parenting to just having myself together in general. But if I think about the power I gave to my stuffed animal Butterscotch back in the day, if I think about how I was able to keep away the bad by simply holding onto something good, I can see how the power of my thoughts can change my current struggles.

Ashton Rose Baker is a good writer. Ashton Rose Baker is a good wife, a good mother, and—okay, I’m not a good housekeeper right now, but I am only weeks away from having a baby, so cut me a little slack. Ashton Rose Baker can do this.

I just might need some chocolate and a good cry every now and then. And even though I can’t hug my old stuffed friend, I can picture her and keep her as a symbol of the strength and power of my thoughts.

If I could turn back time, I would stop myself from throwing away the poor raggedy animal. I would see about cleaning her up some, maybe getting her stuffing replaced. It’s far too late for that. But I’m grateful I had that dog for so many years. And I’m grateful that a simple journal prompt could bring her back to me through memory.