The house terrors found their way to me in St Maarten – every night I had nightmares about the house – the worst of which was the one where I got home from my trip and saw that the floor had been ripped up to fix some pipes, the walls had holes in them where the wiring needed to be redone, and I walked into the outdoor shower to find men roaming around scratching their head and suddenly a spray of questions came at me machine gun style and I knew my mother was inside so I screamed for her to come help me: MOM – MOM – MOMMY!
The next morning at breakfast I told G about my middle of the night awakening horrible house terror and how the nightmare ended with me screaming MOMMY.
She said, well, I thought you were screaming TOMMY, and I pulled the covers over my head.
We emailed Tommy about it and he left a hysterical message on our hotel room voicemail that said “it is not uncommon for women to wake up all over the country screaming Tommy and that may be what you heard†and then he cracked up.
For the next few days, we would play the message to get a couple of yucks – the best part was the end where he cracked himself up.
Haiku written while leaving the island and staring out the van window at the azure water:
Island so pretty
Wake to blue sights, sounds and tastes
Girls screaming Tommy