The eldest son looked up at his mother with wide, innocent eyes. His voice was soft but steady as he answered, “I heard him talking to someone in his dreams, mom. Every night, around the same time, I hear whispers from his crib. But the strange part is, it’s not his voice.”
The mother’s heart skipped a beat. She felt a chill run down her spine. What could he possibly mean by hearing whispers? She had never noticed anything unusual about the baby’s sleep sounds, just the usual coos and occasional cries. But there was a seriousness in her son’s demeanor, a sincerity that made her realize that this wasn’t just a child’s imagination running wild.
“Whispers? What do you mean, darling?” the mother asked, trying to maintain a calm facade despite the alarm bells ringing in her mind.
Her son hesitated for a moment, glancing down at his little brother who seemed serene in his grasp. “It’s like…someone is talking to him, telling him things. I can’t understand all of it, but I know it’s important. I feel like I have to be there, to make sure he’s safe.”
