My Favorite

I ride the 125 to Shorewood in reverse, then get off and walk down the opposite side of the street that I normally walk on. The sidewalk is blocked by some bushes spilling out of a yard, so I get on my hands and knees and crawl under. Lifting my head I come face to face with a huge fluffy cat with an ugly squashed face. I freeze, terrified that it might be hostile. It stares at me until another skinny cat walks up and they have a conversation in French. Then the ugly cat turns to me and says, "Venez chez moi."

At this point I recount the entire dream so far to someone, including a bit I don't remember about getting on the bus because my mom told me I would be able to get a good swimsuit.
Then I continue along the street just past the point where I met the cats.

As soon as I reach the top of the hill I notice the sky and it catches my breath. It is filled with dark, swirling purple and gray clouds, which are frequently lit up with with flashes of lightening. But all I can hear is the sudden absence of gravity and the force of the wind that picks me up from the ground and gently tosses me into space.
It is the most amazing feeling I have ever experienced, and I am instantly terrified that I will never reach the ground again. I struggle against nothing, trying to swim to the ground, but the wind keeps me aloft. Finally it lets me down close enough so that I can touch and claw at the pavement, trying to reach the grass of my parents' lawn for more purchase. Up again, then down and I press my arms and face, then chest to the earth, finally reconnected. I crawl and roll my way into the house.

Again, I recount the dream to someone, determined not to lose it.

The inside of the house is smaller, filled with human-sized carpeted cat condos. I am a waitress and I fly around serving the customers inside.

Postmodernism Prevails

We are slaves to a strange man, tending his vegetable garden in a place that looks like my old house. A stream runs through the backyard. We move empty, infertile soil around in a pretense of work.

It is night, we have been called inside. I play pool with a very attractive man, he resembles Andrew the Waiter. I am not sure I am playing correctly.

We escape, dashing across the plot of land into the stream. One slave is sucked underground as he runs, but the rest of us make it safely to the water. The sky is red, perhaps signifying sunset.

We find ourselves at a carnival. I locate the French festivities and seat myself across from Spencer. We are handed several different cheeses and some sort of ham. We are told not to eat them right away, but we do. We are hungry. Behind Spencer I can see children cavorting on an inflatable trampoline.

We return to the house where our master lives, hoping to rescue our fellow that was trapped upon trying to leave. We circle the house quietly, but risk discovery as our ex-owner sits in his study, looking out the window. We leave.

As the others walk down the driveway, I change my mind and turn around. The slaver is actually my respected mentor in many things, and I think it is worth it to pay him a visit. I enter the house, make my way to the study and crawl underneath a table in order to better observe his activities. He turns around, and it is the Andrew the Waiter-like man. He espies me crouching underneath the furniture and coaxes me out gently.
He gives me a guitar and makes me sit in his lap and play for him, like a father. I notice he is slightly fatter and slightly less well-groomed. but when I mention this to him, he laughs and says that everyone changes. I feel small but safe and secure, like a child. We sing a song together.