Dreams Interrupted

It was awfully hard to get out of bed this morning. Not because I was especially tired—though I certainly wasn’t eager to face Thursday—but because I was having a rather… enjoyable dream. Let’s just say it was the sort of dream that makes waking up feel like an interruption rather than the start of a new day.

I wasn’t completely asleep, but I wasn’t fully awake either. You know that wonderful hazy state where your dream is still hanging around, just waiting for you to drift back into it if you don’t move too much. There really ought to be a word for that in-between place. If there is, I’d like to spend more time there.

As you might imagine, one part of me had already decided it was time to greet the morning, even if the rest of me hadn’t. Morning optimism, I suppose.

There was a strong temptation to stay right where I was and let the dream slowly become a daydream. After all, why rush into reality when your subconscious is doing such a fine job of keeping you entertained? I figured I could enjoy a few more minutes under the covers while… appreciating the situation.

Unfortunately, Isabella has absolutely no sympathy for these kinds of personal dilemmas.

When breakfast is five minutes late, she begins poking at me with her paw as if to say, “Excuse me, your priorities are all wrong.” Personally, I’d have much preferred to continue dreaming about being poked by someone a little less furry than my persistent feline companion.

Well… perhaps a bit furry in all the best places.

Eventually, duty won. Isabella got her breakfast, I got out of bed, and the dream faded into that frustrating place where you can remember just enough to know it was good but not enough to request a sequel tonight.

Now all that’s left is coffee, a shower, and wondering whether tonight’s dreams will be kind enough to continue where this morning’s left off. Here’s hoping tonight’s dream gets a sequel—and that my furry alarm clock waits until the closing credits have rolled before deciding breakfast is more important than my subconscious.