Dreamt of cold chilling

“I don’t get cold,” says the cool cat, “I just catch a chill.”

“Don’t steal my lines and then try to impress me with them,” I tease.

I point the left foot, of my crossed leg, from my seated position.

The bones structuring the top, flat part of my foot crackle themselves loose.

I make a strange, welp noise as I feel a tendon overstretch and then reassert itself back into place.

“You are so loud,” the cat moans, stepping over, circling and pawing my grounded, left foot. S/he finally lies down atop my foot.

A robust, white-tailed rabbit plods along in little plopping hops.

It has the legs of a frog.

The cat pounces at it. Claws pushing off me.

Sinking in. I do not yelp this time.

The rabbit reveals sparrow like wings and flies away.

A flying frog that mimics hares.

Reading my dreaming mind, the cat nods at me.

“This would make a a good illustrated children’s book.”

⊙

“Hey! Will you do that thing I like?” asks the cool cat.

I flip off the light switch and light a candle.

I make shadow puppets play and flit on the wall.

The cat tries to catch the intangible phantoms.