Dreams dreams dreams last night, and not the fun, flying-naked-while-late-for-a-test-in-hi
On August 25th, 2005 02:02 pm (UTC), (Anonymous) commented:
... it starts working the moment we are born and only stops when we get up to speak in public.
The other night, I had a dream about my cat who died a few months ago of old age. I miss him terribly, and have often thought about getting another cat. And the latest issue of Australian Good Taste has a cat-food ad on the back that features an absolutely GEORGEOUS burmilla kitten. Many things are pushing me in the direction of getting another cat... or being got by one.
Earlier tonight I was looking at the website of the RSPCA, and they have a page listing all the cats up for adoption across my state. A shelter an hour's drive from my house has a 6-year old Siamese female. She is a lovely cat, and I am sorely tempted. Only, living by myself, I'm not sure how she'd adapt to being by herself all day.
The blurb on the website says she was left in a cardboard box in the shelter carpark in the middle of the day. Honestly, some people deserve to be shot for what they do to animals. Preferably shot in the stomach, so it takes longer for them to die and is more painful.
I am comforted by the fact that the lovely Siamese lady should easily find a home. Siamese at shelters are usually adopted very quickly.
I know this has nothing to do with your blog entry, but I figured you'd agree with me about harsh justice being meted out to people who abuse animals.
Dreamwind the Critter, who is now going to bed.
Funny, I just woke up from a very elaborate dream (it began with my being in a school musical dressed as a Mighty Morphin Power Ranger, and I forgot all the words to our big number and screwed the whole thing up) which ended with my trying to teach a class of pre-college students in a hotel bar, and I couldn't get them to pay any attention to me, and then they all started ordering drinks and I really wanted a whiskey but I kept thinking, I can't drink, I'm teaching. My can't-teach dreams are probably the cruellest thing my unconscious does to me, and can't-drink dreams are a close second, so this was very distressing.
Hi, by the way—I've been lurking in your journal for a while. I wandered over because your name sounds like mine, and I like eavesdropping on writers' careers.
Gah! How dare your subconscious do that to you? Didn't anyone ever tell it that you're too wonderful and brilliant to mess up in front of a crowd, and it shouldn't even suggest such a thing, because it's not even funny?
I'm going to have to give that subconscious of yours a good whacking one of these days! Or maybe I'll turn it into a birthday candle and Hobkin can eat it.
I'll share my crazy dream with you. I dreamed my eye ball fell out. It was the right one. I kept picking it off my check and putting it back in. Did I go to the ER? Nope. I went to the Opthmalogist(sp?). He scheduled surgery for the next month. I asked, but what should I do about my eye popping out? Should I cover it with a bandage? He said no. I lost my eye while cleaning my living room floor with a water hose. Damn doctor caused me to lose my eye. I spent a good hour trying to analyze that one. Very weird.