At first he thought perhaps he had finally fallen asleep- after almost three nights of lying restlessly in bed, stiff and heavy; drifting on the edges of dream like a waterlogged plank. Still, the blanket clung to him, frightened and useless and terribly real. His toes and fingertips were cold. Outside, a dog mocked him with shrill, distant yelps.

When he could no longer deny that he was wide awake, he tried to tell himself it was merely the light- a car's headlights maybe, playing with the darkness and the shadows. That happened, sometimes. Punch would chase Judy across the room; two dark shapes traversing the walls. It always ended the same way. After a time, they would simply smash into the floor and melt away into the darkness.

But these shadows were different. For a start, they were dancing.

Literally, the shadows had detached themselves from the night and were dancing across the ceiling. And not just the ceiling, but the walls as well; distended fairy-shapes, twirling and spinning, leaping and diving, running and sliding and falling into each others arms in a wild, merry, festive manner.

A soft glow crept slowly into the room. He could see them clearly now; some waltzed in slow, steady circles- others tumbled about with glee; miniature acrobats swinging from wardrobe to lampshade then back again. Their outlines were sharp and distinct in the pale moonlight.

For the fourth time that week, he did not sleep a wink.