Walking through the dreams of others, a quiet spectator, prospector, explorer. Waiting to see the light of embers the glow of an idea, the spark of new thought. Sunfire and moonglow ebb and flow an infinity between heartbeats, an ocean of filtered light.
She woke with a start, sitting up quickly, dislodging the weightless cat whose purrs had been keeping time with her heart. It was still dark. Carefully she rolled the covers over to slide out of bed, waiting for the cat to take up her warm spot before fluffing the quilt around him as he curled into a fast sleep. She slid her slippers on and padded into the living room, peered out through the curtains at the dark sky and the distant crack in the east that was the first of dawn’s light. Satisfied that nothing moved at the front of the house, she then went to look out the glass doors to the back yard. A shadow of movement, deeply dark and large was sliding along the back fence. Flipping on the patio light, she saw the mountain lion turn and look at her with indifferent appraisal, then its large form lightly leaped over the six foot fence and was gone.
She went back to bed, curling in around the cat who opened one eye but did not relinquish his spot. When the daylight called her to waken again, she slipped out of bed and stretched and wondered if she had dreamed the mountain lion.
Slipping on shoes and her robe she went out to the back yard. Along the fence she saw first two human barefoot prints just at the corner where the fence line began, then large paw prints along the fence line disappearing where she saw the lion leap.
Now her day would be spent wondering what kind of prints would be on the other side of the fence. And would this creature return.