there are days and nights in florida when the air surrounding you seems to feel the exact same temperature as your insides. if you lie still, you can almost imagine that the air is an extension of your body and at your command. you do not sweat and there is no breeze. you exist, but your body, your skin, doesnt feel anything. no hair lifting to remind you where you positioned your arm, no wind cooling the nape of your neck; only you, submerged in air neither hot nor cold, like the amniotic fluid that once was your cradle.

last night was not like that. i slept with the window open; it was probably 65 degrees. i was woken abruptly from REM sleep by a screeching that sounded like a child vomiting (i know, but it was my 3 am mind that told me that). i counted seven screeches, realizing there was no child. an owl? some other bird of prey doing some nocturnal hunting? as i drifted off to sleep, i heard it again farther back on the property, still loud, but not like the first time, when my mind conjured a black-winged bird, with intelligent but cruel eyes, claws gripping my sill while it screamed its horrible language straight into my unsuspecting bedroom.

at least it woke me from my nightmare before it got too much worse.