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I've Got It Covered

A father checks in on his son as he sleeps.  The father notices that his son has kicked the covers off his legs.  The father quietly creeps into the bedroom and pulls the blanket over the exposed extremities.  Satisfied with his parenting skill, he quietly creeps out of the room.

This is my most hated cliche in movies and TV. 

It's not always a parent and child.  Sometimes it's a couple of lawyers burning the midnight oil on a tough case.  Sometimes it's a couple of cops who don't know the meaning of the word "quit."  At any rate, there is always someone sleeping soundly in a partially covered state, or not covered at all, and there is always someone who thinks a sleeping body needs shelter from the room's atmosphere at all times.

I hate this cliche the most because I personally relate to it.  I kick off my covers and re-cover myself a couple times a night.  I get hot.  Kick, kick, kick.  Then I get cool.  Blindly reach for the blanket, blindly reach for the blanket, blindly reach for the blanket.  I've got it handled.  I'll assign my blanket's responsibility as I see fit.  Thank you, but mind your business.

I get that the cliche shows one character's care for another, but why can't it work the other way?  Why can't the father peek into his son's room, decide he has too many covers, tip-toe over to the bed and remove a blanket?  That's still caring for another's well-being.  That's still presuming there was a problem in the first place.

It's exciting when cliches are twisted into something new and amazing.  For this cliche's twist, please direct your attention to Hannibal

Will Graham tracks and kills serial killer Garret Jacob Hobbs by the end of the first episode. Will's Sherlock-like power of assessing a crime scene by getting into the mind of the murderer isn't so easy to switch off once activated, and he is left with nightmare visions of a stag.  (Why a stag? You really should see for yourself.)

Hobbs' daughter is injured during her father's shooting and is hospitalized.  Will, feeling guilty for killing her dad, keeps watch by her bedside.  Will's lady friend, Dr. Alana Bloom, checks in on them one night and finds Will asleep.  Without covers!  She grabs the blanket, a blanket within his reach had he wanted it, mind you, and drapes it over his body.  Grrrrr!

But wait.  Something is different. 

The show cuts from Will's dream to her entrance in the room.  The clack of her high heels are the clack of the stag's hooves.  The stag walks past the door.  Will follows it.  As Dr. Can't-Mind-Her-Own-Business covers Will, the lights in the hallway of his dream begin to dim.  Lower and lower.  Until he is engulfed in darkness.  He snaps awake.

I just got a chill.  

So, let this be two lessons for you:  1) Let sleeping people lie.  You could be messing with their dreams.  2) If you didn't watch Hannibal, you have yet to see one of the best seasons of television.  It's full-on psychological warfare.

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