I was having a quite sleep, just minding my own business. I was floating on a cloud and my subjects were below on their knees bowing and recognising my importance in the feline world. After all I am the best, the most intelligent and above all the one that always is first. I was just about to sit on my throne and become Queen of all Felines when I felt a movement on my right paw. Something pushed my paw. Of course I was immediately awake, thinking that I was being handed the feline sceptre of power, the one that gives eternal whiskers if you lose one.
No, I was wrong. It was Mrs. Human waking me for her daily photo for my blog. She has many photos of me. Of course, I am the most important person in her life. She could have waited for my dream to finish, but no. She wanted her photo, and now the result is a slightly annoyed expression which will definitely not make me feline of the year.
I managed to sleep on afterwards, but the dream was broken. I was now back to the middle ages with my witch mistress, having my fur singed, tied to a stake, because I was wrongly accused of turning the milk sour. It wasn’t me, really, it was the dog.