Yellow Daffodils (Part 1)

Deep in a druggy slumber I dream of tornado sirens wailing. Rain blasts from a dark and angry sky. There is a man. He is trying to break into my house. I’m paralyzed in the grey spiderweb underworld, trapped in a dense fog, worried he’s going to get in. I push and push, trying to reach the surface, and then the loudest crack of lightning snaps me awake, spine straight, heart pounding in my ears louder than the storm outside. The storm is real. The sirens are real.

Through the chaos of Mother Nature, I hear something unmistakably human, coming from the other side of my house. The back door that leads into my studio, a set of double French doors, being pushed, and pulled, rattling the windowpanes. The pounding on and shaking of glass and wood reverberates down the hallways and all the way into my bedroom. My body is taught, every microscopic hair standing up in reception of this very real threat. Through trembling fingers I manage to dial 9 -1 - 1.

“Someone is trying to break into my hous…