Perchance to Dream

The wind was awe inspiring last night. I fought with my heat and the windows to reach some sort of consensus; this time of year it's hard to know whether you're hot or cold, but the need for fresh air is paramount. I had settled in and was dozing on the couch while Wesley Snipes was busy training for some inevitable win two hours into the movie (I don't know why I bother, except that it's easy to sleep to) when the wind slammed my window shut.
After I calmed down I went and got some pliers to remove Evy's claws from my chest and I decided it was time to sleep. I have to admit I was a little jumpy, so maybe it's not surprising that sleep was a long time coming but before I drifted off I experienced a strange phenomenon.

In psychological terms it goes like this. The body/brain has a routine for shutting down that rarely varies and as you relax your body literally becomes paralyzed, then your brain leaps into action. That prevents you from wandering all over the house looking for shit when you're dreaming. It also prevents you from trying to perform those roundhouse kicks you think you're good at (stupid Wesley Snipes) while lying in bed. So while you are experiencing all of these sensations your body isn't fooled and you dream the night away.
Sometimes however things shut down in the wrong order. It's just a glitch in the programming that so far no one can explain or get rid of. This is what happened to me last night.

It occurred to me that I could hear someone crying. Then into my ear as I lay there, trying to sleep, a soft voice said my name. "Michael" Stuff like that freaks me out, so I decided to get up and take a look around the apartment just to settle the cat down who had also heard the voice. I went into the kitchen and while there was no one there, I could still hear someone crying. It was a man's voice, sobbing uncontrollably. I asked Evy, but the cat just shrugged; he didn't know who it was either. I sent him into the cupboard under the sink to check things out and now the voice turned into a wail that pierced me through to my soul. I grew more frantic until at some point I woke myself up. I was in the kitchen and the wailing, which I could still hear, was the cat, who from under my foot was complaining that I weighed too much.

From here on in I'm going to wonder if some of the things I dream about are really happening. I can't trust that when I think I'm asleep in bed I'm not actually in the car headed south or running down the avenue with no clothes on. I'm just hoping that if you see me you'll wake me up and send me home. And when you see that damned cat tell him I'm sorry.