It had to be a dream

It was one of those evenings that the bed called out to me. "Phelan, come, lie down. You know I love you." How could I ever resist that kind of sweet talk? I carefully avoided stepping on the kittens that ran around like Mad hatters in the height of a cocaine high, and snuggled down into the deep down of the pillow top bed. ahhh. . . now this was the best part of life on the prairie, being able to put the day's work behind you. Fatigue so great that you never stop to silently toil with thoughts.

My eyes slowly flutter as my shoulder popped, and I roughly pushed against the muscles of my husband's back. It was all the energy I had left in my bruised and battered body. I was making a pathetic attempt at a massage, my sorry way of showing my appreciation. It felt like I had ridden a bull for the eight full seconds, but nothing so dramatic. In truth it was a day mixed with flu like symptoms, uncooperative fencing, and a lot of crawling. But it was enough to allow the drama queen to show her poutty face.

I quickly faded into the bed. No more thoughts, and too soon for explosive dreams. The floating sensation took over, and everything was peaceful. Suddenly I shot up from bed. Glass was shattering all over the kitchen. No one but me, and the now paralyzed kittens were awake. Even in my daze of sleepiness knew better than to attempt to wake my husband whose soft snores were the only sound I heard.

The gun isn't in my bedroom. A mistake that I should rectify. However, knives are scattered through out. And I prefer the safety that these provide me to feel. Gingerly I placed my foot down, the kittens were instantly reanimated, as the hurried to huddle around my feet. They had heard the glass breaking as well, and they knew that as long as I didn't step on them in the dark, that they were safe. I wanted to mumble, it is up to us team pussy, but restrained it and the giggle that I felt bubbling up. Throwing knife in hand I slowly pushed forward, into the kitchen. Nothing was moving. No strange shadows to declare an unusual presence. Quickly I flipped the light on.

The sink and floor was covered in glass, but the cabinet doors where shut, as were the other doors to the house. The dogs neglected to give off any kind of alarm as well. Suddenly there was a creaking noise to my side, a door was slowly opening. With a flash, the adult cat jumped out of the kitchen cabinet, glass coming down with her.

I grumbled as I cleaned up.