I’ve had some weird dreams in my time, but the other night was beyond the pale. I should point out that our cats are all indoor cats, but before we moved in late 1996, they spent a lot of time outside. I should also point out that I’ve often wondered how live prey tastes to a cat, and whether it’s anything like cat food.
So I’m having this dream, and the ragdoll Rocco is playing with a mouse. But…he’s being very gentle with it, as if it’s a playmate and not prey. For some reason Rocco can talk:
Rocco: This mouse is so stupid it can’t remember anything for three seconds!
S of P: They’re very dumb. You could eat another one right in front of him and he’d be too stupid to run away. Suddenly struck by a thought: Have you ever eaten a mouse? How did it taste?
Rocco: They taste awful! I only ever ate one…
You get the idea. Has anyone else ever had such a freaky dream involving pets?
Here’s another one that doesn’t quite count. A friend of mine told me about it. She had a dream in which I was a snake. She thought I was dead and wanted to revive me, so she was pouring water on me. Nothing happened until her friend came along with a whole bucket of water and poured it over my snake body. I woke up right away (still a snake) and turned my head towards the two of them and said “Hey!”
End of dream.
Part one; quite silly Can a cowboy’s dog get a driver’s license? No, but the cat’ll drive.
Part B, in which Nott vaguely recalls writing a song. I know a musician with a recording studio. He asked me to write some lyrics about going outside on a nice day. I can remember bits and pieces.
Blue Jay, high in the sycamore, chak
Eyes me suspiciously.
Easy Mr. Blue Jay, relax.
I don’t want a blue jay for a snack.
Freckles, at my ankle, disagrees.
Blue jays are so very nice,
Roasted, with toasted nuts,
On a bed of wild rice.
Gimme some sparrow’s legs,
With scrambled sparrow’s eggs.
And a chickadeeeee!
Yeah, fricaseeeeed!
And grill me a blue vireo, ha!
James Brown on the steerio, ha!
Layin’ down the funk, ha!
Barbecue a chipmunk, ha!
(Wah guitar and bass trade licks,
and the drummer plays brushes on a hihat
and thumps a pedal bass drum)
…
I can’t remember the rest, but it had something to do with letting Freckles watch Emeril while I’m at work.
A week or so ago, I dreamed my cat spoke to me. He said “don’t hurt me.” Don’t know what that means – I don’t, but he is a nervous cat that hides at the sight of trouble.
