636.8 Cats

Enclosed please find the latest emanation from my cat, Otto. Sixteen years old, but still full of piss ‘n’ vinegar. Boy turns my computer into a damn Ouija board.

Other than inserting line breaks, I have left this message exactly as I found it:


2/7/08 12:20 PM

Another lack-of-sleep dream – because I was working on my freakin’ blog last night, natch. I’m back at 5710, my sister’s room. I find a cat under the covers. I think it’s my old cat Moochie, the one who ran away. I start crying, since I’m so happy I found her, and upset that I might have neglected her. This is just like the rabbit dreams I used to have, where I’d go out to the backyard to find I’d forgotten all about them and now they had multiplied and suffered all kinds of neglect, except last night’s dream was not as bleak.

Everything seems really grey and hard to make out, and there doesn’t seem to be any way to do something about it. Then I’m out in the hallway with the cat. I meet my mom and my grandmother at the far end of the hall, before you have to make a left-hand turn to get to the stairs. In every other dream I’ve had with my mom, she seems really nice, but this time she seems more like my grandmother, stern and serious. She says, “I think you know why we’re here and what we’re doing.” I don’t, but I don’t say anything.

I take the cat downstairs. I heat up some milk for oatmeal. I spill the oatmeal everywhere, then the milk, so now I’ve got this hot oatmeal all over the kitchen. I go out in the living room, where my parents are, and offer them some. No reply. Then I go back upstairs, and the house has changed completely. It could be my aunt’s house or my sister’s house, some combination of the two, or something completely different and unfamiliar. I find another, shorter set of stairs, which I take, thinking I’m going to find all the secrets I’ve been struggling to uncover. I see my cousin in a wheelchair (which she does not use in real life), and I say, “Oh, hey, didn’t expect to see you there.” Then my whole family seems to just magically appear out of the walls and the floors.

Later, I’m in the basement of my house hanging laundry, telling my wife, “I could really use some help, you know!”