Dangers of Naps

I fell asleep this afternoon, wrapped in half my comforter to keep the chill off my bare feet and have been waking up every 20 minutes or so without being able to peel myself out of bed. Then the last dream successfully ousted me by being That creepy.

So.

I dream I live in a house that shares its driveway with the property next door. I have been working in my garden most of the morning and there are two little girls visiting the elderly woman who lives beside me. The girls have been rather noisy all morning and I’m looking forward to going inside. They’re watching me and making all kinds of wondering questioning comments about me that I’m not supposed to be able to hear. As I pull open my door, the cat they’ve been playing with slips into my house and takes off running. I worry a little that she’s gone to investigate my rabbits – and she has, but they aren’t scared of her. All the animals are happily romping around together. While my back was turned, however, one of the girls, too, has made her way inside. I usher her out again, telling her now is not the time for visitors. Then, when I’ve closed the door, I’m back to deal with the cat and rabbit circus. They’re all peaceful and I decide I don’t need to do anything immediately, except maybe nap. I lay down on the couch, and the bunnies join me, allowing me to snuggle them close, while the cat jumps up and sprawls out on my back. I can hear the sounds of TV and my house guest quietly moving around in the background. I sleep. When I wake up the first time, I stretch and release the rabbits, who go bounding about their bunny business. The cat on my back stretches, too, and starts kneading with her feet. It’s slightly prickly sharp through the fabric of my shirt and I think it wouldn’t be a terrible thing if someone trimmed her nails. I call out to my friend, staying with me, asking her if she’ll bring me some nail scissors, directing her to the pair in the bathroom. I fall asleep, though, before any materialize. When I awake again, I recall the scissors and call out again. No one comes. I start to move to get up and the cat on my back kneads with her feet again, but with more pressure. Her left paw reaches down to my side and presses rather hard. I fall asleep again. The third time I awaken, I think that it’s strange that neither rabbits nor house guest have appeared. As soon as I start to move, calling their names, the cat on my back presses down. HARD. I feel her paw on my side and the needle she presses into it. There’s a numbed, but aching spot that responds to the pressure and I realize I’m being drugged as my consciousness slips away from me.

Which is when I shoot up out of bed for reals and make sure there are no needles, cats, or other beings keeping me asleep. I am done with you, nap.

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