Whenever a bird flies overhead, I think of what it must be like to be so free. Free to move through the air, above all the people and animals below. Free to move from one place to another, with seemingly little effort. Free to look for food wherever it may be found. Free to shelter in the trees. But then I realize that I am free as well. Free to attract the birds with birdseed, so that I may watch their lovely forms flying to the feeder. Free to look at all the trees, with their beautiful leaves moving in the wind as if they were underwater, moving with the currents. Free to kick up those same leaves after they have fallen to the ground, in preparation for the snows of winter. And I realize I don’t really want to be a bird. I want to be me.
I awoke in a bed that was not my own. I felt constricted, unable to move. The room was too warm, and I could not move my arms to throw off the covers. The darkness in the room was oppressive, and threatening. I struggled to breathe. It felt as if there was a heavy weight on my chest. I tried to scream, but the sound was strangled in my throat. I could only pray that this was a dream, a nightmare form which I would soon awake. And then, a sound. Far off, at first, but slowly increasing in volume. Something tickled my ear. And the sound became clear. My cat was lying across my chest, and purring madly.yes, it was morning, and the hungry beasts were seeking food. Another day of servitude to the felines had begun.
In the dark I found it harder to push away the frightening imaginings. They wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. They were a tight weight on my chest, and my legs were bound so tightly by the covers that I could barely move. Each small sound in the house seemed magnified, and it seemed I would never make it through this night.