Startled, I awaken in the middle of the night. I pinch my skin- I can feel it. Turning on the light I pinch myself again to see the white to red discoloration. It works. I'm alive. My legs suddenly feel heavy. I become self-aware of the tingling from my thighs to my toes and the numbness weighs them down. I reach down and rub them simultaneously with both hands. The pressure stings, but soon subsides. I am finally able to move them. Slinging them both off the bed in one swift move, I reach for the floor with my toes. I can feel the soft threads of the shag carpet as my heels brace my body in full upright stance. I stand still momentarily to allow my brain and equilibrium to catch up.

It's cold; breezy. The window slaps the curtain loudly as the air pushes and shudders through the screen. I can hear the wind howl and whistle. I take a step forward to close the window, but at that moment hear a crack like a board breaking in half. The room lights up from the luminary display of lightning that nearly sent me backwards. I am half in shock from its striking chord. I now scurry to the window and shut it, forcing the air back out. The curtains still themselves. I hear a rumble of thunder and jump back away from the pane of glass. No wonder I had awoken. The brewing storm had stopped me from finishing my recurrent dream. My apocalyptic like dream. The one where I'm always running from something or someone. Tonight I was hiding, so as not be seen. Like many nights I was on a rescue mission, most likely for my kids. This storm had hindered me from knowing for sure.

These dreams happen more often than naught. They scare me. I question their meaning. If I had been a fan of apocalyptic movies and watched them often enough, I could write it off. It would make sense of why they reoccurred. I don't watch movies like that though. Perhaps it was all the Baptist preaching on the Book of Revelation I was subjected to as a child. I remember vividly the movies with a survival after "rapture" and Jesus' second coming. Maybe it was these life after total devastation on earth themes that scared me and haunted my subconscious REM.

It still left me wondering why. Why had these things been so impactful on my rapid brain waves during slumber? Was it my greatest fear- to be the last human standing? Last family standing? To be left behind, all the good guys gone, fighting for my family and my life? And why must I struggle so in my dreams? What in my life was I running from during the waking hours that came to fruition as an apocalyptic beast in my dreams? These are thoughts I pondered regularly.

By now I had slipped back into bed, pulling the covers clear up to my chin. Still thinking, I knew I wasn't afraid of zombies, vampires, witches, or werewolves. They simply didn't exist in real life; not real ones anyhow. So what is always chasing me? Why must I run, hide, and rescue? After a few more thoughts, I doze off dreaming again.

The morning light permeates the three windows of my room. I open one eye and close it quickly. I do not want to wake up. It is morning. I have no place to be. I roll over and lay on my stomach with my arms and hands tucked under the pillow beneath my head. I open the other eye. It 8:03 a.m. on the clock beside me. I close my eye, but the red digital number sticks to the occipital lobe of my brain- 8:03. No. I want to sleep. "I am not getting up", I chide my body. I feel as though I have been awake all night long. I am exhausted. It occurs to me that my brain has run a marathon and left my body lay here all night. I nearly speak aloud, "No wonder I haven't lost weight! With all the running I accomplish in my dreams I ought to be an Ironman!" I shift my legs underneath the covers, feeling a large lump of a cat at my feet. He is always there, faithfully, in my way. I can never quite stretch out straight. I move around him, letting him sleep there; claiming the space as his very own. I'd push him off the bed, as I have before. Relentless, he returns each time, perching himself in "his" spot ever so strategically at my feet again. It is a comfort though; knowing he is there. I am still here. I am not wondering around in some apocalyptic dream land still. I am here- in my cozy well lit bedroom with this furry companion warming my toes.

I'm staying here. In bed. Warm and secure. I am going to rest my eyes still some more….