Tremors

This morning I woke from strange dreams involving revival-type meetings in a faux outdoor arena, complete with Astro turf, and Peter Cava, to the sound of footsteps in my hallway.

I jerked an earplug out and listened closely. Underneath the carpet right outside my bedroom door, which I keep mostly closed at night, I heard floorboards shifting, softly but unmistakably.

I lay awake in a flood of terrified sweat, breathing as quietly as possible in spite of the hyperventilating gasps my lungs were attempting. While the back of my mind sent up a stream of frantic prayer, I considered my options. The house phone was in the kitchen. The cell phone was turned on but would make a noise. The Maglite, my only realistic instrument of defense, was next to my bed. Was it wiser to try to confront the intruder, or to lie still and hope they were only after my TV and would go away?

The floorboards shifted again. Thirty seconds later the cat leaped onto my face to wish me good morning. He seemed unalarmed. I risked a glance at the clock. 6:15. An unlikely, though not impossible, hour for breaking and entering.

Now, I know from daily routine that the cat has a heavy tread. He climbs all over my chest and torso and shoulders in the mornings, rolling around on my abdomen in an ecstacy of affection and anticipation of breakfast, and some days I can barely breathe. But I did not know that his tread was heavy enough that he, when not galloping around like a mad giraffe, could sound like a human tiptoeing down the hall.

I got up, shivering as the chilly air attacked my soaked pajamas. My covers as I left them felt as though someone had gotten in bed straight out of the shower without drying off. I flashed the Maglite around the apartment for certainty’s sake, concluded that I was in no danger and that all the windows were sound, and fed the cat in a zombie-ish state of post-adrenaline rush.

I don’t often consider the possibility of danger; and while I don’t live in a savory neighborhood, I’ve never felt threatened beyond the first terrors of living alone when I first moved in. But it’s Halloween, possibilities are always there, however remote, and I hate being defenseless.

I’m not going to be that afraid again. My boss is now going to spend a few weekends teaching me to shoot, and I’m buying a gun.