dream a little dream

Yesterday, I was pretty much dead-tired all day long. I roused myself long enough to take Pic to the library and then to the grocery store (where I forgot to buy sour cream), and then it was home again, home again jiggedy-jog. Upon returning home, both Pic and I immediately reverted to pajama-clad status. We ate lunch and shortly thereafter, I tried to get Pic to get some rest. I needed to (re)finish King Lear and she really needed sleep after having gone to sleep somewhere after eleven the night before. The child resisted the sleep. Finally, I told her to come lay down with me, in hopes that all of the warmth generated by my body, a covert cat's body and the two tattered comforters on my bed would lull her to sleep. Didn't happen. She did, however warm up my freezing nose by resting her face on mine and breathing directly onto said nose. At the same time, she rested her icy feet on my shoulder. (We were both on our sides, facing one another.) My child is bendy in ways that I never was and, no matter the amount of pilates I do, never will be.

So, anyhow, I slept and Pic bounced around and then went into the living room to read books and play with her puzzles. I slept and I dreamed. I dreamt that I crafted a cat out of black modeling clay. This cat resembled one of the covert cats (who is actually a really dark, chocolately brown, but he deceives us by looking black). My clay cat came to life and then I couldn't discern the real cat from the clay cat. This, people, was a terrifying dream. I'm not sure why, but it was.

Perhaps if I got more sleep, my dreams wouldn't scare the living crap out of me (if there is living crap in me). Or, perhaps I have been cooking with mescaline and I haven't realized it. Hmm.