A Midday Dream That Was Taken Too Soon

It was an opportunity for rebirth. The type of afternoon nap that can only come after strenuous work. Slightly sunburned skin serves as the antithesis to cool sheets, and sleep begins that will end with a questioning of the year when it began.

I laid my head down and began to drift out of consciousness. Blissful minutes that could have been hours drift by as the Saturday afternoon passes in luxurious fashion. I begin to reposition and rearrange my pillows when a new sensation hits. My heart beings to beat faster, and my blood runs cold, as I feel a foreign slither down my back.

The feeling starts odd, but now has advanced to terrifying. Slightly moist but solid, and far too cold for anything that should be in a bed. Childhood fears of monsters in the closet or under the bed come to the forefront. The hand of a zombie, cold and showing decay, moves down my shoulder. A smiling demon scratching the small of my back with a dripping talon. My mind goes white as I clumsily throw the covers off of myself and do something, anything, to get away from the feeling.

Once smooth and soothing blankets have become a prison. My ankle is twisted under one sheet and my arm is wrapped in a blanket that I am now lying on top of. My chance of escape has been reduced to a long shot; a silent groan escapes my throat as the feeling continues down my spine.

After what seems like an eternity I tear myself away from the sheets and step onto the floor. I take a breath and turn back to the bed, wildly scanning for what may be my demise. There are so many things I didn’t say to my wife and kids. I need to be brave for them, this cannot be the end. An unnatural silhouette sits at the corner of my pillowcase. I move back the cover and now truly question the nature of my existence. There is little more to do than sit at the end of the bed and wonder why.

It takes more time than I care to admit, but I begin my descent out of the bedroom. The door creaks open and the light from the hallway sears my eyes. I walk down the wooden stairs feeling the grain in every step, now knowing that nothing will be the same after I have descended this final flight.

My wife is standing in the kitchen making a snack for the kids when she sees me. “Weren’t you going to take a nap?” She asks while noticing that I appear more disheveled and tired than when I had finished moving wood on this 90 degree July afternoon.

I take a pause. Not just a pause for effect, but one that is not even societally acceptable. I wait long enough to make sure that there is no distraction for attention, no question that what I am about to say will be heard by anyone who is in earshot.

“Babe, I don’t even know how to say what I am about to say, and I want to make sure that we are both awake right now. I just experienced something that should not happen, can’t happen”.

“Okay” She has put the cutting board down as I have her complete and utter attention.

“Why was there…” The start of the sentence sticks in my throat.

“Why was there a hotdog under my pillow?”

“A what!?” Her bewilderment is palpable.

“I was taking a nap and turned my pillow over, and a hotdog rolled down my back,” The absurdity of the statement is not lost on me as I finally share this impossible situation with another.

“Oh I see.” Her tone has now shifted to one of understanding.

My mind begins to short circuit. Was this a cruel joke, am I being put under some type of Oscar-Meyer hex? There is still no logical explanation to what has happened, but this woman seems to know.

“I gave the puppy a hotdog as a treat. He took it upstairs and I thought he ate it, but he must have “buried” it under your pillow.”

I immediately walk out of kitchen and away from the sound of hysterical laughter, hoping to return to my mid-day dream that was taken too soon.