For Zeus Bruce Indigo Christie-Joseph —
thunder in the front of his name,
evening sky at the back.
Guard the dreams, big one. We will mind the yard.
Night comes down over Berbice soft-soft, like a blanket being pulled up to the chin.
The kiskadees stop their quarrelling. The mango tree stands still. The blackwater creek turns to dark glass, holding one star on its face.
And the yard changes shifts.
Bruno takes his post on the top step, chin on his paws, amber eyes on the gate. The night has a guardian.
Petal takes the fence. Agatha and Isaiah settle by the paling, two shadows with brave hearts.
Everyone is where they should be.
Everyone — except one small prince.
Inside the house, JJ is not sleeping.
Tonight, the dark feels too big. Too deep. Too full of corners.
By his bed, as always, is Baby.
Baby the guardian, who has watched over JJ since before JJ was even born — since JJ was smaller than a mango seed and only Mama knew him.
Baby lifts a sleepy head, as if to say: I'm here. I'm always here.
But the dark is still too big.
"Mama?" calls JJ, small as a whisper. "MAMA?" calls JJ, big as a shout.
Mama comes.
She does not switch on the big light. Mamas know that the big light only chases the dark under the bed, where it waits.
Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed and turns the dark into a story.
"Little prince," says Mama, "have I ever told you about Zeus Bruce Indigo?"
JJ snuggles down into his pillow. "Tell me."
"Zeus Bruce was a great dog of this family," says Mama.
"Big as courage. Gentle as bedtime. When he stood in the yard, the whole yard felt safe — even the chickens, and chickens don't trust anybody."
"His full name was Zeus Bruce Indigo Christie-Joseph.
A name with thunder at the front — and evening sky at the back."
"What is indigo?" asks JJ.
"Look at the window," says Mama. "The sun is gone, and the stars are just coming. You see that colour? Deep, and blue, and deeper than blue?
That is indigo. It is the colour the sky wears between goodnight and good morning."
"Zeus Bruce loved the children of this family best of all," says Mama, soft now.
"He would lie down beside the smallest one in the house and stay there the whole night through. That was his way."
"And now," says Mama — and she says this part very gently, the way you carry something precious —
"now Zeus Bruce lives where the indigo lives. In the land of dreams.
Some guardians guard yards, little prince. Zeus Bruce guards dreams."
"How does he do it?" whispers JJ.
"When a child of this family sleeps, Zeus Bruce walks the edge of their dream — all around, all night — so only sweet things can come in.
Bad dreams reach the place where he is standing… and they simply turn around and go home."
"Will he guard my dream?"
"My love," says Mama, "he has guarded your dreams every night since you were born.
Tonight — look for him."
Then Mama hums.
No words. Just a low, warm hum, round and round like a slow fan, like a far-off radio playing just for them.
And JJ's eyes go heavy… and heavy… and…
…JJ is standing in the yard.
But not the day yard. The dream yard.
The mangoes on the tree are gold. The creek shines like poured stars. The moon sits low and friendly, close enough to greet.
And there, at the gate of the dream, stands a great dog.
Indigo as the evening sky. Tall as courage. With little stars caught in his coat, blinking slow.
"Zeus Bruce?" says JJ.
The great tail swings once, like a flag saying welcome.
And JJ is not one bit afraid. In this whole dream, there is nothing to be afraid of. That is the point of a guardian.
They walk the dream together, the small prince and the indigo dog.
Past kiskadees singing their songs backwards, soft as lullabies. Past the golden mangoes, which bow politely. Along the shining creek, where the star lies floating, safe as a coin in a pocket.
Once — just once — something grey gathers at the far fence of the dream.
A shadow shaped like a worry.
Zeus Bruce does not bark. He does not growl. He simply goes and stands there, big and calm and indigo.
And the worry looks at him… and thinks better of it… and melts away like mist at morning.
"Nothing crosses where Zeus Bruce stands," says the dream, in Mama's voice, from somewhere warm.
JJ leans against the great indigo side, soft as velvet, warm as bakes.
The dark is not too big. And JJ was never too small.
When the dream is nearly done, Zeus Bruce walks JJ all the way to the door of morning.
Go on, little prince, say the kind dark eyes. I have the night.
Kis-ka-dee! Kis-ka-dee! — morning!
JJ wakes with sun on his blanket and Baby still at his side, and runs to find Mama.
"Mama! I saw him! He is indigo! He has STARS in his coat! A worry came and he just STOOD there and it ran away!"
Mama smiles a rain-and-sunshine smile — the kind that is happy and remembering at the same time.
"That's him," she says. "That is Zeus Bruce Indigo.
He watches all the children of this family. Always has. Always will."
So now, when night comes down over Berbice soft-soft, JJ does his own roll call, quiet under the covers.
"Bruno in the yard." — thump-thump, says a tail on the steps.
"Baby by my bed." — Baby breathes slow and steady, right there.
"And Zeus Bruce in the dream." — and somewhere indigo, a great flag of a tail swings once.
Three guardians.
One for the gate. One for the bedside. One for the dreaming.
No dark is too big for a prince with three guardians.
So close your eyes, little one — you too.
The indigo is coming up at the window, between goodnight and good morning.
And the edge of your dream is already being walked, all around, all night, by someone big and calm and gentle, with stars caught in his coat.
Sleep sweet, little prince.
Sleep sweet, Berbice.
The night has guardians.
Zeus Bruce Indigo Christie-Joseph was a real and dearly loved dog of our family — big as courage, gentle as bedtime, exactly as the story says. His middle name really was Indigo. Tonight he guards the land of dreams, and his lullabies live on at the Zeus Bruce Dreams channel, made in his honour, so that every child can fall asleep guarded.
Book Three of the JJ & Mama series