In the wee hours of the morning...

Here's a little sampling of how my mind works at 2 in the morning. Remember, it's 2 in the morning, no one is at his best then, right?

A little before 2, I woke up from a dead sleep. Something had just whined in my ear. You know that half-awake reasoning mode a person goes into. "Well, what could have just whined in my ear? A mosquito? An elephant? Was it just a dream?" Then I switched to the taking inventory of the room mode, with my eyes still closed mind you. "Hmm..all my limbs seem to still be in the bed, pillow under my head, still have all the blankets. WonderDog next to my knee...no wait...he's not next to me. Hmm..."

I rolled over a little and realized that my nose had just run into something furry. Now, understand, I'm afraid of the dark. I do, in fact, have lights on in my house all night. (Not the main lights in a room, but small nightlights). So, to wake up to a strange noise in my ear and realize something furry is on my pillow with me.....Houston, we have a problem!

Cautiously, I reach up to touch whatever it is on my pillow. Whew! WonderDog! That's a relief, seriously. I open my eyes and we're eyeball to eyeball, and I can tell he's distressed. I start murmuring comforting words and cooing at him when he suddenly cuts his eyes toward the closet. (Yes, I know, I'm anthropomorphizing him. Deal with it.) So, I look over there.

The door's open. This is...well let's just say there will be no sleep until the damn thing is closed. But here's the deal, I closed it before I got in bed. I always do. It's my little ritual--walk the house, check the locks, open and shut the closet door. I never falter in this.

Soooo......why's it open? Let's see, the door's open, the WonderDog has plastered himself to my head, and is under some sort of distress that I'm guessing, at this hour, has nothing to do with the corned beef hash I let him taste after I had my dinner. (Ok..it could be the hash, but he's little and frankly, I'd have been gassed out of the room LOOOOONG before the two o'clock hour if it was the hash.)

By this time, I'm awake and now, rather than turn on a light and close the door, my mind is racing through the possible reasons for it's open state.

My mind flits to the old wives' tale about cats not being allowed in a baby's room because they'll steal the baby's breath. I glance at WonderDog, "Is that why you're on my pillow? To steal my breath?" Whine....I'm guessing that means "no."

I lay there pondering for a few seconds, and my mine wanders over to a faint memory of a set of Stephen King short stories made into short movies. Wish I could remember what they are. Three of them packaged together, one of them is about a cat who protects the human child in her family from a troll who tries to steal her breath.

Do you see where this is heading??

The troll, as I recall from the movie, would show up after the little girl was asleep, bedroom door closed, and the cat (THANK GOD) had snuck in without the parents knowing. There was a creak of the bedroom door and then scampering across the floor, where the troll would climb into bed and start to suck the breath right out of the child. The cat would leaps onto the bed and a terrific fight ensues. Takes a little time for the cat to not only kill the troll, but be lauded as a hero by the family.

For the record, I do not own a cat. But I am terrified of the dark. So much so that I don't sleep on one side of my queen-size bed, I sleep in the middle. My rational mind understands that there is nothing under my bed. But you never know.

So, from 2:15ish (when I make this connection) to 4:00ish, I'm lying in bed watching the closet door. And listening for scamper sounds on the wood floor. And wondering why in the hell the WonderDog has dozed back off, leaving me utterly unprotected. I am not, even for a minute, sleeping. 

I finally give in. I need to sleep, but I won't sleep with that door open. I sit up, get a grumble from the WonderDog. Apparently, I am now disturbing his sleep. When did I cease to be the alpha in my own house?
"Little dog, if I should die, think only this of me....I will haunt your ass and then show the trolls where to find you."

As the alarm goes off and I reach for the bedside lamp, the WonderDog wakes up a stretches, big yawns. Then wanders over to give me a good morning kiss. As if nothing in the world has happened. Really? REALLY? Glad someone got to sleep last night.


To see a few more ramblings, visit Carry on Tuesday and Sunday Scribblings.
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3 Response to "In the wee hours of the morning..."

  1. Greyscale Territory says:
    Jul 6, 2010, 4:38:00 PM

    Love how you have created drama tensions within a stillness! A breathless narrative where imagination can run amok!

  2. naramalone.com says:
    Jul 6, 2010, 5:00:00 PM

    You had me hooked from the start and I could feel the nerves build, taking me back through the emotions I've had on similar nights.

    Love the twist with the prompt at the end. Well done.

  3. oldegg says:
    Jul 6, 2010, 8:59:00 PM

    I'm pretty sure Wonder Dog knows who is boss...him!

    Great tale (or tail as the case may be).

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