All that burns is not on fire.
Yesterday evening, I was sitting at the kitchen table. I was listening to an old Amy Grant Christmas cassette (yes, a cassette tape; remember those?), drinking tea, burning a candle, writing a letter to Jack, and smelling the cool Autumn breeze coming in from the back door. Both of the cats were up on the table demanding attention. Fernando, Senior Floof, was interested in the flame of the candle and went right up to it. He was about to sniff it when I swatted him away. I’m always afraid to burn candles for this very reason. If it’s not the cats sticking their faces in the candle on the table, it’s the dog wagging his tail too close to the candle on the coffee table. I have had several close calls where I swore I would never burn another candle for fear of one of the animals going up in smoke.
Hair goes quickly, you know.
Last night, I vividly saw Fernando in my dream, sticking his face too close to the candle on the table, and just as his whisker touched the flame, I jumped up out of bed and was halfway to the kitchen table before I realized it was a dream.
The good news is…I didn’t have a “terror” dream last night. Hopefully tonight will be a restful night. I would be happy with no dreams at all.
Pax Christi.
Semmie.
barefooted semmie 