I’m so tired, yet cannot sleep. Trapped hovering somewhere between what’s real and what’s just the far side of normal. Where maybe there really is a dragon hiding under the bed, because, really, I haven’t ever looked for one there… and it’s the cat again. Alive and Dead. Two worlds alike in dignity, in endless mirror dances only the reflections never the same. One where there’s a deeper meaning, a plot, a thread, a sense of purpose, even if it’s badly written. And sometimes I think I can step over, in those long dark hours after midnight, where the lines are blurred and if I just look deep enough into the shadows I can go strolling through the worlds in my head. Guiding them along, finding them the happy endings that I’m so scared of losing here, trapped on this side of the mirror.

Alive and Dead.

And maybe there’s a dragon after all…