Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Views from a Troubled Mind
Scene #3
Deep Dream, Slight Sleep


Interrupted Conversation 

The cat was talking again last night. You know, those German glotto stops mixed with mewling and moaning. As if the poor creature of the night had something on its mind and just couldn't find the right words to express its troublesome thoughts. And to add to its failure to communicate, it began scratching at the wall beneath my bedroom window.

Its racket awoke me from a fever sleep. Damn Tramadol produces a weird waking dream awareness. If it weren't for the fact that my eyes are closed, I'd be wide awake. And usually I can simply ignore the ravings of the cat, who makes a nightly habit of visiting me right before bedtime to have this conversation. Tonight, it caught me in dead sleep with vivid dreams of being awake. 

Then something slammed against the bedroom wall. My eyes flew open. Is it trying to get in? But no. It screamed with that human voice. There was another sound outside. Another voice? Human? A neighbor awakened from sleep taking his anger out on the confused feline? The human glotto stops turned to infant cries of pain mixed with a helpless mewling. Then nothing. 

That's when I realized I was still asleep. I was dreaming I was awake. A coyote must have caught the plump cat, I surmised. I decided to wake up and look outside in the back yard. And so my dream turned to my going outside. The night was silent and cold. I had to pee. So I woke up for real and went to the restroom to relieve myself.

I considered that pissing out all this warm urine would leave me without any warmth. I should have held in the hot steaming piss to keep me warm on this freezing night. Too late. I returned to bed.


I closed my eyes. Dream returned. I was pissing into a hot water bottle. I awoke suddenly, afraid that I might be wetting the bed by dreaming of pissing. But my bladder was empty. Silly dreams. 

Then the screeching cut through the bedroom. Again something slammed against the wall, shaking the window pane. I was awake. I was sure of it. I went to the window and looked out. I wiped the frost from the pane. There was no coyote. There was no cat. The neighbor was taking out his early morning trash cans for pick-up. The wheels of the cans sounded like squealing. Someone was warming up their cold car engine, revving the motor. It sounded like the thumping engine was slamming against the hood. 

And so it all became clear. Till I saw the morning parrots on the telephone pole line. The revving engine sparked their squawking. It sounded like humans arguing with grunts and groans and words from a language not of this Earth. When the car drove off, the racket stopped. The silence returned.

And I was driving the car. Where was I going? Damn. I was still asleep. I turned the auto around and drove home. I parked, ran to the back yard, and saw the parrots feasting on the cat. 


I saw myself in the bedroom window staring at the carnage. Then he noticed me. I needed to escape. He couldn't see me or I'd never get any sleep. I flapped my arms and lifted myself from the ground, flying above the house, out of visual range of the bedroom window. In my talons I carried a cat. It was screaming like a baby whose bladder had burst. 

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