On An Ordinary Night

On An Ordinary Night

It was an ordinary night, even the most imaginative of souls could have only described it as such.  There were no extremes of weather; no clattering of rain on the roof; no wild wind to disturb the nests of baby robins asleep in the holly bushes beneath the darkened windows.  The crescent moon, thin as an eyelash, could only muster a watery light that struggled, and failed, to pierce the heavy air.   It was quiet, save for the hooting of the owl in the bottom of the garden, who is such a regular visitor that his calls are hardly to be taken for omens of any portent.  The minutes ticked by in quotidian fashion, as if even  time itself expected nothing unusual to occur on this, a most ordinary of ordinary nights.

The Songwriter was out of town and, as usual, Edward had been more than happy to take his place next to me in bed.  I had drifted off to the sound of the big dog’s steady breathing and was now tucked deep inside a dreamless sleep.  Way past midnight, yet long before dawn, I sensed someone trying to wake me up.  Though inaudible, someone was calling my name as loud as a bell.   Opening my eyes, I found myself nose to nose with Edward.  His big head nudged my side.  Then he pawed at my shoulder.  Then he turned round and round and flopped down on the bed with his head on my tummy.  Then, jumping up, he began to paw at me again, insistent, persistent,  and obviously worried.  

Sitting up in bed, I tried to ascertain what was wrong but nothing I could say or do seemed to calm him.  Then, suddenly, what only can be described as a strong gust of wind blew past me - a warm wind, forceful enough to ruffle my hair. The very second after this happened Edward turned, lay down at the foot of the bed, sighed a contented sigh and went right back to sleep, leaving me sitting up with my mind, quite naturally, awhirl.  There was no window open; nothing that could have logically caused a gust of warm wind.  What had just happened?

Relating this story to several people has been entertaining as I’ve watched their eyes grow wider and wider and heard wildly varying possibilities as to the nature of my experience.    Suffice it to say, all who have heard my account have expressed more that a bit of fright.  But I can honestly say that I felt no fear, indeed I went right back to sleep along with Edward.  

But I do admit to wondering what it could have been,

 and Edward’s not talking.

So, any ideas?

Painting above by Konstantin Kalynovych