Cats and snakes and dreams.

I believe that my evil twin, Slipperman, is having a bad influence on me. I, who never recall my dreams, remembered much of another dream I had last night. Perhaps I was able to recall it because it was so disturbing. If so, then I guess that speaks well of the rest of my dreams, which are immediately consigned to the “trash can” of my soul’s desktop when I wake.

There was a venomous snake in the apartment. I remember seeing the snake on the carpet, looking at me. It might have been saying something, but if it did I don’t remember what. We killed it, though I don’t remember the act of killing it, and put it on a counter. The counter had a bend in it, like our kitchen counter does, but there was no sink, no toaster, and no canisters. There was just the counter with the snake on it. The snake had changed shape though. Dead, it looked like some weird statue, with a fat base, no body, and open-mouthed head sticking straight up. It was almost as if it had been coiled up, with its nose pointed upwards, and the coils melted together into one sloppy lump. You could see fangs (upper and lower, which is anatomically inaccurate) stretching out from its mouth.

I turned my back on the snake, and ACfH jumped up on the counter to investigate. Of course the snake bit her. Trying to save her, I put her, tail end first, into a glass of cold water. The size perspectives are all wrong at this point; ACfH is no larger than a six-week old kitten, and a smallish one at that. She fit neatly into a standard sized 8-ounce tumbler.

I must have turned my back again, because when I checked her she was in the glass head-end first and drowning. I thought she was already dead at first, but then I saw her turn her head. I took her out and put her in a maroon towel. She was breathing and struggling and wet and tiny, with water coming out of her nose and mouth. I was sure I’d killed her.

I think I like it better when I don’t dream. Of course, now I’m trying to figure out what in the world inspired this dream. I like snakes, and I find it strange that I dreamed about killing one. ADfH is actually starting to settle down. She knows how to sit on command, do a “high-five” and has almost gotten the idea of sitting up. I certainly don’t want her dead, nor do I feel particularly guilty about how I’ve been treating her (if anything, she gets more attention than Clueless Wonder, since she demands to play fetch so often). Anyhow, the dream has left a nasty cloud in my head, and has me feeling off-kilter this morning.

At least I can rest assured that ACfH’s love of shoelaces will continue unabated. Having never met the snake, she need not fear the shoelace.