Not to suggest for a moment that my dreams are more interesting than my real life, but they certainly continue to be odd. Last night's involved my bete noire. You know a subject's bad if I won't blog about it. It was somewhat in the direction of a nightmare, since I was mainly banging my bete noire on the head, but it was fairly cartoonish/ Three Stoogish violence. My dad and mom were around, more or less in command of their faculties. Then there was an earthquake, which was even more cartoonish, or perhaps stagy. Outside rows of trees were sliding by one another, exactly like stage props. It was a dream, though, so I took it as an earthquake. I got a big kick out of it, and quit banging anybody on the head long enough to call everyone's attention to it. Sooo a wild, wacky, obviously stress-induced dream with a certain amount of levity.
I don't know why the cats have quit sleeping on my legs. After 9 years of Amelia doing so and several months of Harry doing so, it's almost weird having them sleep elsewhere, no matter how much I may have wished they would from time to time over the years. Mind you, it's only been two nights. But still. I guess Harry chased Amelia off and then when the territory was won, he lost interest, and she's either afraid to come back or she likes the new heated cat bed. On the bright side, if somebody comes along who wants to get married, she can finally do so without fear of claws in the night. Probably.
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