Chapter Twelve
Waking was a struggle the next morning. Romey's dreams kept pulling her back under their warm covers. Part of her knew she was dreaming, but the lines kept getting fuzzier and fuzzier until they became furry.
She was panting in the dream. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth. She was down on all fours, trotting about a back alley. Distressed that she'd get her beautiful brown coat of fur messy. Why did she have paws in her dreams? Why was she sniffing after a scruffy looking gray and white dog with a lopsided grin? Why was she hankering for a meatball?
Romey woke with a start. Her heart was racing. There was drool on her lips. Thankfully her tongue was snug inside her mouth. Her skin was clean, with no hint of fur.
Sigmund Freud had a theory of dreams. The psychologist had
