Birdy

something is peculiar, but she eases herself off the nest. The young ones are disturbed and make feed-me noises. I get on the nest and they settle down.
    ‘Go on, Perta. Take a fly. The young ones are in the woods. Go see what they’re doing. They’re flying around by the ruined house in the tree. You know where that is. It’ll do you good.’
    Perta looks at me once more, then flies off. She doesn’t see the cat. She isn’t looking for it. The cat is pressed against the trunk of the tree. He’s already half way up. I’m sure he heard the babies peeping, but that doesn’t matter now. At least Perta is away. Now if I can only control the dream; stop it from happening. I try once more to concentrate, stop the dream, but I’m still too much inside it. I tell all the babies to stay down deep in the nest. It’s a hot day; the nest is tight and smelly. They don’t want to. It’s almost time for them to fly out; they want to sit or stand on the edge of the nest, stretch their wings. I make them stay down.
    Now, I leave the nest myself. I fly to a higher part of the tree. The cat doesn’t see me. He’s concentrating in that maniac cat way on the nest. He’s already tasting the feathers and blood.
    My only chance is to scare him somehow or hurt him. I think of getting my father to help me but my father is never in the dream. I think of trying to get myself to help. I can see me in the aviary across the yard, but that’s impossible too. I never pay any attention to myself as bird. I must do it alone. The only chance is to hurtthe cat. I must somehow get to his eyes by diving down directly from above without making noise.
    The cat has climbed higher into the tree: I fly out and hover in the air. I’m afraid. The bird in me is panicked by the cat. I think if I fly into my bedroom to a place I haven’t been as a bird, a place where I am as boy, that the dream might end. I know there isn’t enough time for that.
    I start my dive. I dive between the branches and come fast down onto the cat’s head. I drive my beak straight toward his eye. The eye, yellow-green, black-slitted, concentrated on my babies. Then, I’m falling, my wings won’t work; I have no breath; I hurt. The cat has swept me out of the air with a quick stroke of his paw. I hit the ground and cannot move. My eyes are open, but I’m paralyzed. I’m lying on my side and looking up into the tree. I close my eyes again and try to make the dream stop. I open my eyes; I’m still there on the ground. The cat is looking down at me from the tree. Now he’s distracted from the nest.
    I struggle to get my legs under me but nothing moves. The cat is turning his head over his shoulder and back down the tree. He scrambles and slips, then jumps the final few feet from the tree to the ground. I’m still there. The cat stands still watching me. I don’t move; I can’t. The cat is crouched ready to pounce. I look into his eyes, I try to make him see the boy in me, not just the bird. The slits in his eyes are opening and closing. His eyes are crossed in concentration. He is rocking his head slowly back and forth in anticipation. I try to hold him, stop him with my eyes. I try again to break the dream. I feel I can do it if I close my eyes. I know if I close my eyes the cat will pounce. I close my eyes and then, as before the dream ends, I hear a sound and the cat screams.
     
    I wake in bed shaking and sweating. My heart is pounding. I can scarcely walk to the bathroom for a drink of water. One side of my body is numb and sore. I look in the mirror but there’s nothing, no redness, no cut. I’m pale and my hair is matted with sweat.
    I go back to my bedroom and get out another pair of pajamas. I hang the first pair over the radiator to dry. I’m so sore I can hardlyget them on. I fall back into bed and stare at the ceiling. I don’t know if I should go to sleep again. I’m tired but I’m afraid of the dream. Is it still possible to sleep without dreaming? If I dream again, what will be happening? I make my mind go over what’s happening in the dream; try to make it come out right.
    The cat was screaming. Why? Was it just the scream before he pounced on me and began ripping me to pieces? If I go into the dream, will I be dead? If I’m dead in the dream, will the dream be ended? If I’m dead in the dream, will I die as a boy?
    I feel I’m almost dead lying in bed. I know I could die very easily. It’s only a matter of not trying. I can’t stop