laramie

Tigger went outside all by himself last night. I know because he came tapping at the porch door at 3 a.m., wanting to be let in again. I lay awake for a long time after that, having an attack of anxiety over whether the house will sell before they foreclose on it, realizing that I forgot to call about cold weather energy assistance and worrying that the gas will be turned off; I thought of what I wanted to say in response to some recent email messages from friends. I thought about the characters in the romance I started for NaNoWriMo: the heroine has issues; she wants love but doesn't really believe in it, doesn't believe she is lovable; she had an absentee father and has grown content with imaginary relationships. Finally I found myself running down a city street – I suspected I might be dreaming when I found my steps prolonged in the air for long moments and only touching the sidewalks and tarmac lightly with my toes as I passed.