So, there we are, Sweets and I snuggled together in bed — she, sound asleep, and me just slipping past the stage of dozing lightly and into a sound slumber. My arm and leg are draped over her, we’re all cozy and warm.
Suddenly, Sweets sits bolt upright, sloughing me off to the side, and turns her head toward the big window behind our bed, a look of concern on her face. I’m instantly awake — my heart is beating fiercely in my chest, my adrenaline glands go from zero to full production in a split second. I’m ready for action.
“What? You ok? What is it?” I ask.
“Oh. Nothing.” she replies, and promptly lay back down and instantly falls back to sleep, snoring softly.
For the next forty-five minutes I toss and turn, straining my ears to hear even the faintest footfall outside the window. Listening to the sounds of the sleeping house trying to detect something amiss. Checking, double checking, and checking again that the red light on the alarm control panel was lit, signifying that the sensors were on and waiting for some intruder.
She remembers nothing of it. Has a good laugh when I tell her. Me too, to be honest. It was pretty funny, now that I’m an evening and a few hours of sleep away from it. Better to chase goblins, than to miss their presence when they arrive.