Having fur is strange. It's like I don't have to wear thick pajamas when I go to bed, which I only wear because I was told they were important to my family. Hopefully my ancestors won't hate me if I don't have as much on.

It was three in the morning at the moment, well past when I normally sleep. I haven't even put on all of my blankets over me yet. Staring at the ceiling in this weird, furry form is oddly liberating. Everything had an odd, serene calm to it, a dreamy feel that calmed my nerves that grew from before.

I forgot to ask Thomas for his phone number. Would he think that's weird? He helped me quite a lot today. I think he'd understand if I'd ask him.

This odd, monstrous form, sporting horns and rugged, rough bristles of fluff formed around my body is meant to be me? A creature that tears holes in doors and causes carnage in my rampant sleep. A monster that awakes when I'm asleep, one that's me and leading my body around, yet it wasn't a monster. It was me, walking around in my sleep and knocking everything around me over and poking holes in anything hollow near my vicinity. I, a beast, was the monster that casually sleeps under my covers as if nothing had happened while rampaging when fast asleep.

Even Thomas knows that I sleep walk now. Does he find it impure? He didn't have a brash reaction to us being in a different location. Did he even know it was happening? I have no clue. If anything, I want him to be happy. He doesn't deserve to be stricken with grief or be burdened with feelings of uncertainty and loneliness. He's unlike anybody else that I've met here.

I think the only thing we could be is best friends. Besides, this is a small town. He doesn't deserve anything horrible happening to him because of a selfish impulse.

Then, I was dreaming about being selfish.

It was a spectacular dream.