Wednesday Winston: Sweet dreams

I was in a cold sweat, my hands shaking, my head heavy.
I slumped over the side of the bed, my mind fighting against the aching memory of a disturbing dream. Phantoms drifted in and out of my consciousness, the malaise hanging over me like a dark cloud. "Stop thinking about it!" I commanded myself, willing my heart to cease its frantic palpitations, my mind to halt the fear. Something in the old house creaked, and I froze under my blanket. This was it. The terrors of my imagination were becoming real! Just as I decided to wake up Jason, I turned over and there, stretched out to his full length with his small face hidden under an arm, was Winston-- a furry, fluffy, warm, magically alive Winston. I pulled him toward me by his back feet. His whiskers twitched. He opened one eye. I wrapped an arm around him and, very slowly, he laid his head down, his face pointed towards mine, the pointed caps of his fangs slightly protruding. As he exhaled I could feel the warm, steady puff of his stale breath on my cheek and I held him close to me, like a teddy bear, until I fell asleep again-- my dreams permeated with softer things.