It always happens. You drop off to sleep as you always do. It's cold so the bed is extra inviting and warm, making the seconds to get changed in the brief cold worth it.
Your dreams are untroubled. It's the same with any dream. A few vague flashes. Glimpses of a forest. The sound of hoofbeats.
And that's when it hits. You honestly thought you'd forgotten what day it would be when you woke up. And it happens every year! By the time you realise, it's too late. You're asleep and the dream flickers in and out, forgotten upon waking.
You wake up before your alarm and it feels wrong. It's awkward to try to check your phone. It falls off the table when you try to grab it. And the pillow feels thinner. As you try to roll over, what little motor control is there just about keeps the covers on the bed and not in a puddle on your side.
And that's when it hits. Four legs, not two. The pillow sheds its stuffing over you as your head moves. Somehow you can still talk and think.
Oh. It's that time of year again. It always seems to come so quickly these days. Best get used to it.

