I sat on the landing at top of the stairs and counted the steps to the bottom. Thirteen. I knew that if the dream caught me I would leave my tummy at the top and land lightly at the bottom. Only the thick shaded light above my head was on, downstairs was a mystery. My flying record was six steps but that was in the daytime. Night meant I didn’t know. I just had to let go and see. I took off spreading my arms like the Comet. As I flew I counted the steps. Twelve.