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His face is sceptical but I know he is interested.
‘If you wear them the next time you are on dialysis, they will protect you, they will give you good dreams, they …’
‘Will they make me safe?’
‘Yes. They will make you safe.’
He takes the pyjamas from me. They are covered in a plastic wrapping.
‘Do you want to try them on?’
His hands stroke the plastic.
‘No. No, that make might the magic escape. I will wait until next time.’
Two nights later and he is connected to the machine. He is wearing his new pyjamas and drawing in his new scrap book. I am watching him from the door of his room. He is chattering to himself as he draws.
‘This is me in the magic pyjamas and they’ve turned his legs into rockets and he’s flying through the sky. He’s Mr Rocket Shoes and the pyjamas can do anything, can turn him into anything…’
He pauses.
‘And they, the magic pyjamas, they can even turn him into a diprotodon and he can be a big, scary megafauna and he will never be scared.’
He continues to draw without speaking; absolutely focussed on what he is doing. I quietly turn, go to my room and get myself ready for bed.
