Friday, February 27, 2009


Two nights ago, I woke myself up singing in my sleep. In case you were wondering, it was the David Cook single, whatever it is called, which I hate. I was singing a song I hate as I slept. How I knew the words, I don't know. I think it speaks for the amount of bad radio in my area.

I sing often in my dreams. Usually I am cast in a musical of some time, told at the last minute, and thrown out on stage to perform songs I don't know. If not that, I go out on stage and decide to ad lib, only to discover that everyone loves what I do onstage, no matter what it is. That kind of dream ends with me breaking out in spontaneous ballet or flight.

But last night I had the kind of dream I get that haunts me throughout the next day (today). In this dream all of the horrible things I think about myself or think that other people think about me come true and are acknowledged by those I love and trust. In this kind of dream, Dad tries to kill me, or Mom decides I am a horrible daughter and says mean things about me to other people. Everyone decides they don't want me in their lives anymore, and I have no where else to go because everybody in the dream that I know hates me and wouldn't take me in.

These types of dreams end with someone killing me, or with me crying in the dream, unable to stop and wondering where the people are that usually come and soothe me in real life when I am upset about something.

But last night, things took a different spin.

I was at home, but we had to move for some reason. So I was packing, and I was pretty happy, the dream's way of tricking me into security. Okay, my subconscious' way of tricking me. Whatever.

The problem was Myst, my cat.

We rescued Myst from a pretty horrible situation when she was a kitten. We didn't even know if she was a boy or a girl when we got her, because she was half wild and wouldn't let us get anywhere near her. Maybe not the best pet choice, but we fall in love first and reap the consequences later in my family.

The first day she was home with us, she fled from our care into the brush. I knew we would never find her if she ran too far and she was just a kitten, so I tried to catch her, running through poison ivy and catching her as she ran up a tree and paused at my eye level. She then clawed the heck out of my arms as I carried her back toward my family. And we figured out she was a girl.

Myst and I now have a special bond. From the time I accidentally slashed my own wrist opening a can of her cat food to the time that the screen door slammed as I was holding her in one arm and coffee in a Styrofoam cup in the other (causing the cat to leap out of my arms in fear and me to, resulting from Myst's springing from my arm, throw the cup of scalding coffee into my face and open eyes, we have been special buddies. Myst never left me all through the time I was recovering from both surgeries. She comes only when I call her. She presents me with her prey, usually still alive and eager to run around the house as I try to catch it, including a baby wood duck, chipmunk(s), squirrels, mice, and a toad.

But in my dream, my special little kitty friend hated me. She didn't just avoid me the way my animals do in my dreams when they hate me. She pursued me with the intent of causing me bodily harm. She slashed my hands and arms, bit my legs, yowled at me with rage. I finally caught her and tried to calm her down. She bit me repeatedly and tried to get to my face so she could do more damage.

When I put her in the only place I could restrain her, a purse of my mom's from ages past, I discovered the zipper was broken. I still held it shut though, and my hands were slashed and bitten as I did so.

What a horrible dream. Where did this come from? Before I went to sleep, she was following me around purring and rubbing against me, trying to get me to carry her around with her. I found her a nice place to sleep (she likes soft blankets in little corners where she can be hidden and still see everything around her), then petted her while she got settled. When I woke up, she was right back on my lap. And I picked her up and hugged her, hoping to get rid of the nastiness my dream had left behind.

It didn't work.

I am still down. My cat loves me, right? This wasn't some kind of way for my subconscious to tell me she doesn't? No. It couldn't be that. But if it wasn't, where did it come from? Anyone know anything about dream analysis?

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