A Mothy Nightmare

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I slept with the window open - the day had been hot, the night humid.  A moth must have flown in.  It landed on my face.  I have a thing about moths - a childhood fear.  I swatted it away in the dark but it landed on my chest.  I lifted the covers and shook them.  It's gone, I thought, and drifted back to sleep.

Later I woke and felt its tickling feet and fluttering wings on my stomach - I sat up in alarm and threw the covers back once more to allow it to escape.  Uneasy now that it was still entombed under the covers.

I must have drifted off again.

The next morning I looked for evidence of squashed moth - surely it couldn't have survived a night under the covers with me.

There was nothing, no evidence that it had ever been there.  No moth dust or squashed wings.  Nothing.  Had I been dreaming after all.

I check the ceiling - there is a moth up there, wings closed, snoozing - could that be the one that had caused my sleepless night - if so, how did it survive my nocturnal thrashings.

Please don't do it again.  My nerves are in shreds.