Prowling Tigers

Last night, I was plagued by a fearful dream. Circling me were prowling tigers. Closer and closer, the tigers came surrounding my bed. Smelling the hot breath of these monsters, I cringed and tried to run away. I was trapped. I was their prey. Slowly, so slowly, they continued circling, their eyes ablaze with hunger. In my heart, I knew they wanted to devour me. Suddenly, the leader charged, his teeth gnashing, salvia spilling from his slobbering mouth.

Fortunately, I bounded awake. The warm sun dappled my face, while cold sweat soaked my pajamas. I eased my head down onto my pillow, relieved to hear the calls of “cheep, cheep,” and “pretty me,” sung by the bird choirs outside my bedroom window. I sat up and took a deep breath, calmed by the songs of morning chasing those prowling tigers away. Slipping from my bed, I stretched, happy to return to my real life again.