Dream Police

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Last night involved two dream-lets

In the first dream, I was waiting in line to pay for something in a store. This store was either in, or patterned after something in, the Pacific islands or perhaps Asia. The floors were flat wood panels, with bamboo here and there. When you would get to the front of the purchasing line, you were supposed to pick up an oversized 6-sided dice (die?) and roll it. At that point, whatever number you rolled would determine the number of “things” that fell out of a little dispenser onto the floor. By “things” I mean oversized dead spiders and/or nuts. At that point, one of the floor panels would angle open a little, and a swarm of oversized cockroaches would come out of the floor and devour the things.

The next dream-let involved that “soundtrack of your life” meme that has gone around. I was trying to work out the proper songs in the proper order, yet kept missing one each time I thought the list was complete. I was also over-worried that I had only seen the “movie” of my life up to a certain point, so could only build the “soundtrack” up to a certain point. As soon as I compiled the soundtrack and sent the gold master in for duplication, it would be outdated because the process of compiling, duplicating, and seeing the results of the soundtrack would probably be emotional enough to warrant adding a new song. Mister Chicken, please meet Mister Egg, and may I introduce the both of you to Mister Heisenberg?

Today, I get to be policeman to two kitties


The new Siamese now has two names she gets called alternately. I have been calling her Grep and Kate has been calling her Pants (not because of the Jerkcity comic, but as a postfix like Evilpants, Sneakypants, Scardeypants, etc).

The Precious, much larger than Grep, has started to take on the role of “bully.” Grep, being smaller (but faster and smarter) gets attacked a lot. She never starts an attack, but often pushes The Precious' limits to provoke something. Once an altercation has begun, Grep never attacks back–she will growl or run away, but never bat. The skirmishes never get bad–just some noise and (clawless) batting. In general, I let them do their thing, trying not to play favorites and letting them work it out and find each others boundaries–but the water bottle comes out when Grep gets backed into a corner or a paper bag. It will also come out if it looks like someone is actually using claws or teeth.

I am a little bit concerned that Grep is not eating (she just pantomimes burying it). She did not touch her wet food this morning and it does not look like she touched her dry food during the night–but I cannot tell if she might have stolen some of The Precious' dry food last night or early this morning.

Posted in: Dear Diary Dreams

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