Cat In An Indigo Mood

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The best thing about dreaming is that you do not know you are doing it until you wake up screaming.

I do not exactly wake up screaming, but all four of my limbs are thrashing to beat the band .

. . actually to beat the band of baddies I am fleeing down the endless alleys of dreamland. I can still feel the breath of the hounds from hell that are on my tail.

I lie there on the bed, whiskers still twitching, while l wait for reality to reassemble around me. I wait for the oblong of security light cast through the French door to look less like the shadow of a sneak thief. For the inky blot on the bedroom throw rug to look more like a pair of toppled high heels and less like a chain saw momentarily set down by a serial killer.

Okay, so it was a pretty bad dream.

The pads of my feet are damp with distress. I rub the sleep from my eyes, but still l see alien shapes in the familiar bedroom landscape.

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