Last night I had just managed to drift off to sleep when I was jolted from the land of Nod by a sound from the kitchen. I could hear someone’s clothes rustling as they slowly and stealthily made their way towards the bedroom where the mister and I were reposed. Still in a hazy twilight phase of consciousness, my body produced a cascading reaction of pure animal terror even as my mind perceived that the cat had jumped onto the bed and was creeping towards me, the sound of her paws on the comforter erroneously mapping as the sound of an intruder in the next room. Though the whole thing lasted no more than a few seconds, my heart was pounding so furiously that it hurt and seemed to echo throughout the quiet room.
In the morning I reviewed scary experiences from my past–roller coasters, car accidents, bomb scares–and nothing even came close.