I Killed My Cat (Was it Just a Dream?)

I dreamed last night that the fur ball I was trying to remove from the hindquarters of my faux Himalayan cat was in fact a hernia. And as I gently tugged on the mat of long white hair, I started pulling her innards out. She screeched and ran away, leaving a trail of kitty blood in her wake. Panicked, I searched for her in all of her favorite hiding spots. Instead of finding a trembling cat, I instead found pools of flesh and blood, evidence that she was leaking from the inside out. 

In my dream, I remember weeping.  

And I never found my cat. 

***** 

Care to interpret? 

Diving Down a Ladder

I'm swimming with people who are as familiar to me as my closest friends, but are in fact known to me only through work. We are swimming in a pond in the high desert of Utah or Colorado. Red mud as dry as stone surrounds the base of the natural pool and the water is warm. The area is deserted and our cries of delight echo off canyon walls that surround our swimming hole. One of the women in the crowd enters an opening in a nearby cliff wall, and emerges from a cave one story up and perhaps 15 feet from the edge of the pond. Unfurling a brilliant royal shawl she yells, "We need more purple!" and prepares to dive from the cave into the pool.

Sensing danger I yell, "I can do a back flip!" And I do a back flip in the water, elegantly arcing my back and dipping my body back into the water. The force of my reverse dive is tremendous and I feel my self continue to sink towards the bottom of the pond. I keep sinking. And sinking. I start to panic. "Does this pool have no bottom? Oh my god what if I just keep going? Will I reverse course and begin to float back to the top before I run out of air?" I try to physically alter my path but the momentum of dive forces me to keep moving downward rather than upwards. I am frantic and try to soothe myself by saying, "No one has ever dived forever. You will eventually slow down. When you do you can get to the top. You will be fine."

*****

This is the second anxiety dream I've had in the last week that involves a panicked response to diving into what is, unknown to me, a bottomless pool in a desert.  It is a beautifully transparent anxiety dream, so transparent that it delights me. It also takes place in a location I consider to be a peaceful and tranquil space, the high desert of the Western U.S. I love that my subconscious is thoughtful enough to transport my sleepy manifestations of stress to a place that soothes me, to a place that compels me to slow down. And, if that weren't enough, a part of my who is witnessing the panic has the presence to use words to help me calm down, to recognize my own power, and simply say "You will be fine."

This new dream is a sign of growth. My anxiety dreams USED to involve climbing up and down wooden ladders. Any kind of ladder. I remember a long ago dream about climbing rigging on the exterior surface of a submarine in the dark. There was another than involved racing back and forth across a hotel atrium and six story glass windows, and eventually climbing to the top of one and not being able to get down. I was often with strangers in strange places taking unexplainable actions - all fraught with fear of falling, fear of what I would find when I finished my steps down or trip up the ladder.

*****

What do you dream of when your psyche needs to be rid of negative energy?

Homeless cats

As I was waking up this morning I had a dream about taking Brisket, one of my kittens, for a walk to visit one of his cat friends. Brisket was curled up all cozy and warm in a cardboard box I was carrying.

I had seen Brisket and his friend cat hanging out on this busy street corner before and, like a good cat mama, wanted to meet the cat and make sure the two were safe as they played. This is why I was escorting Brisket there.

As we rounded the corner I realized that Brisket's friend cat had a sibling and two owners. They were all on the corner together, and they were all obviously homeless. The cat parents were an elderly couple, wearing coat upon coat upon coat, each with a different pattern of tears in them. They were pale white with stringy white hair, his hanging out from underneath a black beret, hers from underneath a kerchief. The homeless wife stood in front of the homeless husband, his arms at her side, with tens of ragged bags at their feet. She held a cat while Brisket's cat friend sat nestled atop a suitcase. Both the homeless wife and the homeless husband stared straight ahead, neither person talking.

In my dream I stopped short and wondered, "What next?" If I continued with the kitty play date I would naturally have to introduce myself to them. And, while our pets played I'd need to talk with them, and I knew there was no way I could avoid learning more about their circumstances, and then I'd naturally need to dedicate myself to helping them.

****

It was at this moment of wild panic and conjecture that I woke up. Brisket was resting on my pillow. I was safe, in my home, in my warm bed. I moved Brisket to my chest, absentmindedly stroked his back, and reflected on the dream.

*****

Homelessness is one of the issues that cuts to the core of my heart. Everyone should have a home where they feel safe and comfortable - where they can escape from the perils of their world. This, I believe, is a basic human need. When I hear of children who are homeless my heart breaks.

Given the depth of my empathy for individuals struggling with homelessness, I know I cannot have a career doing this work. This is why I give money and time to homeless causes. I give money to organizations that are relieving immediate suffering by providing food, clothing, and shelter. I give money to organizations that are creating points of normalcy for homeless children and families. And I give money to organizations that strive to prevent homelessness or to create long term solutions to the problem in US society.

One of these organizations is the Somerville Homeless Coalition. They recently had an anonymous donor give them a $20,000 challenge grant. For every dollar I give the donor gives $1, up to $20K. This can go a long way to helping building permanent housing for homeless families in Somerville and surrounding communities.

If ending homelessness, or being part of a challenge, strikes a chord with you, then I invite you to give to the Somerville Homeless Coalition during this $20K challenge grant period.

If homelessness isn't your issue, no harm, no foul. Take a moment to think about the last time you gave time or money to a cause that made your heart go pitter pat. Share your cause in the comments section below, and consider making a gift this week.

So this is what an anxiety dream looks like in my 40s

I had an anxiety dream last night in which I was literally running to make it to my advanced colonoscopy procedure on time. What made me late? Stopping to pick up meat - pork ribs and sausage, taking a detour through the pet shop to look at the snakes and turtles for sale, getting lost in a medical office building, misunderstanding subway routes, and arguing with a cab driver. Realizing I wasn't going to get to the hospital (a) on time, or (b) using public or other transportation, I started to run. The city blocks were huge and unfamiliar, and the more I ran the more I realized I was much farther away from where I wanted to be than I thought I was. My anxiety in the dream increased exponentially with every block I ran and every roadblock I encountered. This was exacerbated by my own dream knowledge that I hadn't read the pre-op instructions that told me what time to show up, what I was - or wasn't - supposed to eat in the 24 hours before the procedure, and how long I was going to be in the hospital. In my dream I don't remember how or when I finally arrived, but do remember the doctor looking at my test results and telling me everything was beautiful.

*****

Climbing up or down something is the usual tell-tale indicator of an anxiety dream for me - I need to go up a rickety ladder to reach a decrepit solarium roof, I'm scaling down the side of a wet lighthouse to get to my boat to sail away from danger, etc. I'm amused at the idea that my first anxiety dream in my 40s involves a colonoscopy. I guess Dr. Freud would say it was a dream about handling my own shit, ja?

I dream of high school

I'm living in a funky condo complex in Cambridge and I've suggested an impromptu high school reunion with all of my Facebook high school friends. My old friend Laurie Ward is still really close and she, along with BMG, are around discussing the party. At some point in time a light goes on in my head that people may actually show up for the party, that this isn't just Facebook and we won't just send virtual beers to one another, but will actually see one another. So I realize that my house needs to be cleaned up. A pile of hardware on the floor from some sort of home improvement project gets put into plastic bags, and I tidy up the outside deck. And then people start arriving. Tons more people than I know through high school - including some I don't recognize (it was 20 years ago after all). As people arrive I find myself marveling at each one, trying to guess who they are and learn what they've been doing. At some point I realize I've been a terrible hostess, not just because I haven't offered anyone a drink, but because I forgot to buy drinks and snacks. I know I have some red wine somewhere - because I always have red wine in the house. So I start to rummage around a cluttered counter to find a bottle of wine. As I'm frantically searching, but trying to remain composed, the person with whom I'm speaking says, "I don't drink anymore. Do you happen to have ginger ale?" Someone else chimes in (I think it was Dave Gates), "Yeah, I'd love a glass of ginger ale." I NEVER have ginger ale, in fact, I never have anything to drink in the house except red wine, seltzer, Gatorade and beer. But the Gatorade and beer are BMG's beverages and I don't want to use them. So then I start to stammer and wonder how I can sneak out of the house to buy soda for my guests who don't drink and adult beverages for the friends who do. When I look up and see a rack of soda and boxes and boxes of Drakes cakes that have miraculously appeared. The Drakes cakes have weird names like "Zips" and "Twitter" which is how I know BMG, the Twitter Consultant, has saved my hide.

****

Not a very dreamy party, but nevertheless the high school party of my dreams. I'm pretty sure the impetus was my older sister's picnic with Facebook friends from high school in Marcellus Park yesterday. What is all the panic about? Is there a part of me who thinks I'm so unprepared to actually live my life in the present? How could I understand having BMG save me? Is he better at being present in the here and now? Interpretations from Junior Freuds most welcome.

Dream # 8 and Dream #9

Bodies are so amazing. Last night I was freezing - BMC loves the AC blasting at night - so my brain manufactured a dream in which I was jumping out of an airplane that was so high in the air that the plane was covered with ice crystals. I leaped into the icy air on my descent back to terra firma and struggled with the release on my parachute because my hands were so cold. Then the person I was jumping with couldn't get his chute open, so I zoomed down to him and hugged him, so he could benefit from my chute AND we could both be warmer.

*****

The previous night I had a weird anxiety dream. In it I was trying to cajole two cats into doing a very specific, timed obstacle course. One cat was a big tiger and the other was a long-haired black kitten. The two cats could not get the last part of the obstacle course done in the required time. And, if they didn't meet the time line, a horde of monkeys appeared and scared the felines into a kitchen cupboard. After a minute or two the scene would "reset" and the obstacle course would start over. And in my dream we kept doing it over and over again, and the monkeys were becoming increasingly hostile. And then I realized the black kitten was sitting inside a soup bowl in the cupboard, and the soup bowl was now filled with black cat hair and it needed to be washed. In my dream I was trying to figure out when to wash the bowl - hoping I could do it AFTER the cats nailed the trick so I wouldn't just have to wash it again - but I wasn't sure when that would be.

Dream #7

On Sunday night I had a dream that I was standing on a super tall concrete circular pillar approximately twice as wide as my arm span. I have no idea why I was on the pillar; there was no view, nothing I was trying to reach, nothing else around. I also have no idea how I got on the pillar; there was no ladder or elevator or other obvious means by which I had arrived onto this pillar.

What was notable about the pillar was that there was a person trying to climb to the top to join me on one side, and a person in a large, bouncy, hamster ball-like contraption repeatedly hitting the edge of the pillar. The repetition and slow motion of the person in the ball made it clear that her/his goal was to join me on the pillar.

I was very clear that I did not want anyone to join me on the pillar. So, I elbowed the climber off, and then elbowed the bouncer in a different direction, one that would not bring her/him towards the pillar any longer.

*****

Part of me wants to be alone.

Dream #6

Last night I dreamt I was cleaning a city pool in my hometown of Syracuse, NY. In my dream I was in beautiful Onondaga Park, but it wasn't actually Onondaga Park. Anyhow, my oldest sister wanted me to go swimming with her, but I wouldn't because the water was so dirty. There was a film of oil covering the top, mounds of sodden leaves filling large swaths of the pool, and pieces of clear plastic floating everywhere - broken measuring cups, utensils, egg drop soup takeout containers. I was maniacally cleaning the pool using one of those pool net cleaning things - getting progressively angrier because the pool was in the poor part of town, and did not have a dedicated cleaning crew paid by the City. My sister and all of the other people in the pool kept splashing me, encouraging me to swim, but I couldn't swim until it was clean. But, it seemed as if the pool would never be clean because (a) you cannot clean oily water with a sieve, and (b) every time someone jumped in, a new mound of leaves would get stirred up.

*****

I resolved last night to join Weight Watchers again. I've gained more weight than I'm comfy with, and do not want to buy bigger clothes. So, when I get back from vacation, it is off to beautiful Twin City Plaza on the Somerville/Cambridge border to begin the process of counting points and being cajoled into weight loss by the fear of having the Weight Watchers ladies be mad at me each week when I weigh in. I think this dream is about my body being polluted, and my unwillingness to let myself play in my skin until it is "just right."

Regret #1

I woke up on Saturday morning thinking about regrets in my life. I have a handful of them, and the one on my mind as I lazily crawled out of bed at 10:00 in the morning was the de facto decision to not join the Peace Corps.

I interviewed for the Peace Corps when I was a late junior, maybe early senior in college. I was a Sociology major with minor courses of study in Women's Studies and Biology. I wanted to go to Central America, in part (I think) because an influential teacher in high school had been a Peace Corps volunteer in that part of the world. I had a terrible interview - with my interviewer essentially telling me that I was ill-prepared for life in a patriarchal third world nation, and my job (if I was accepted) was NOT to export American-brand feminism. The interviewer concluded that I needed to talk with returned volunteers to hear more about their experiences serving overseas in order to get a reality check prior to jumping in. So, I did this. My mom helped me set up interviews with our Congressman and a friend of the family who had both served - with difficult tours of duty. After reporting on my interviews and affirming my interest in the Corps, I never heard from them again. I never received a "hooray you are in," or "we still think you suck but good luck" letter. Nothing. So, I assumed I was out. And I was righteously indignant about it, likely to mask my sadness about not being accepted when I thought I was a shoe-in - if those shoes were hurraches (which indeed I owned, along with a par of classic Birkenstocks).

So, I made other plans, taking a really fantastic job as the Director of the Center for Women's Studies at Colgate University for the not-so-enviable rate of $12,000/year.

While I was home, waiting for my new job to start, I received a letter from the Peace Corps telling me that I had been given the assignment of working on an aquaculture project in Guatemala, and would I please sign this letter indicating my acceptance of the assignment. I can still remember what the icon on my assignment letter looked like - the black and white symbol indicating that my project was a fish farming project. And, between the fog of my indignation and my fear of disappointing the potential mentor who would be my boss at Colgate, I chose not to go.

And I woke up on Saturday wondering how my life would be different if I had gone. Could I imagine myself with "international fish farmer" on my resume today? Would I still be fluent in Spanish? How would the experience have influenced my politics, my living situation, my self-esteem and feelings of efficacy? Would I have been able to be bulimic in Guatemala? Would I have unconsciously felt the need to become bulimic in Guatemala? So many questions - all theoretic because I did not go.

What function do regrets serve? To stimulate emotions such as sadness, shame or anger? To make us generally feel bad about our current station in life, or alternately to prohibit pleasure or contentedness? To give us a handle for trying to understand what makes each one of us fundamentally unique? To help us refocus on priorities and goals unmet as of yet in our lives? I went through this dialogue internally. And quickly - it was all over in the 10 minutes it takes me to stretch awake, totter into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, and then hop into the shower.

As a general rule I'm fairly content with my life. I also believe that my path - like so many paths on this journey in life - is circuitous. There are so many experiences that have made me who I am right now. If "international fish farmer" WERE on my resume, it is likely I'd be a different person that the one sitting here on the Pilates ball typing on a food splattered laptop. But, I'd still be me, only me.

Amputees

BMG and I lay in bed last night giggling hysterically as we told each other jokes from the "Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who..." genre. I don't know why these are so darn funny to me, but they are. Here are the ones I remember from childhood:

Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who hangs on the wall?
A: Art

Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who lays on the floor?
A: Matt

Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who hangs out in the pool?
A: Bob

Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who lives in a hole?
A: Phil

Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who lives in a pile of leaves?
A: Russell

And...from BMG, these gems, as told in his sleepy haze last night:
Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who lives in a garden?
A: Soil.
ME: SOIL? What kinds of name is Soil?
BMG: Whoops! I meant Pete. The answer is Pete.

Q: Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs who stuck to the side of a tree?
A: Pitch?
ME: Pitch? Who the hell names their kid Pitch?
BMG: Well, you never know, someone could name their kid Pitch.

***
Apparently there are zillions more - some good some stupid. Visit this link to check 'em out, or put your own amputee joke in the comments section.

Two new parks for the "tick" list

I'm talking about my evolving list of National Parks I have visited. It has been a sad sad TWO YEARS since I've been to a National Park (I bagged three that visit - Carlsbad Caverns, Guadalupe Mountain, and, on a lark, Big Bend - the picture at right is from Big Bend). While I think of national parks monthly, I am yearning for a little organized fun in a park complete with guided trails, glossy brochures, and miles and miles of unspoiled wilderness all being protected with my tax dollars.

BMG and I are starting to narrow our sights on a trip to Florida where I'll get to visit the Everglades National Park and MAYBE the Dry Tortugas off the southern coast of the muggy and buggy state that boasts the legendary Fountain of Youth among its national treasures. We may also go to Disney World, which has some hotels that are inspired by national parks, but alas, is not a national park.

So tied

I had a nearly sleepless night last night. I'm bleary-eyed and grumpy about having to work this morning. And, this, I believe, was the crux of my slumber issues. I am convinced that my reticence to go to work today prevented me from sleeping last night.

"Huh?" you say?

This is what I think happened. I believed that if I fell asleep, the next thing that would happen would be the stupid alarm waking me up with its gentle light and me having to start the grind. So, in an effort to not have to go to work, I was unable to go to sleep. (I came up with this theory while trying to lull myself to sleep at 1:45 AM.)

And, here is the worst part, when I FINALLY fell asleep, I dreamed about work. AUGH!

Secret

(I'm secretly rooting for the Colorado Rockies to win the World Series. I remember what it felt like to win in Boston in 2004. I want the people of Denver and Colorado to have that same feeling.)

Dream #8

I was with a friend at an amusement park - it might have been my high school friend Cindy Scott. Not sure it matters.

Anyhow, we espied the bumper cars, and entered the pavilion to ride. Before we were allowed on the ride, we needed to pass through all of these psychological games moderated by an earth mother type. She wanted us to realize that bumper cars were only a game, and to test us to be sure we were sure we knew what we were getting into, etc.

While I don't remember all of the hoops we had to jump through to get to the ride, what I do remember is the mounting feeling of frustration as new hurdles were presented each time I thought I'd be able to get into the bumper cars. At one point in time, the emcee for this bumper car run-around asked the group if there was anything we wanted to ask. I raised my hand and, when called on said, "When will we ride the bumper cars?" I don't remember her frustration, DO remember feeling pleased with myself, and have no recollection of actually riding the cars in my dream.

*****

BMG and I hosted our SausageFest 2007 today, so no time for dream interpretation. Clearly about meeting frustration en route to pleasure.

Dream 7

I had two doomsday dreams last night. The one I remember involved being at Gillette Stadium, where the Patriots play. I was there with the President of the U.S., only it wasn't the current U.S. President. It was a kindly man in a motorized wheelchair. While we were watching the game, I noticed enemy aircraft circling overhead. It was ominous and I started to feel nervous. I mentioned this to the President, out of concern, and he said not to worry.

At some point we left the Stadium, because we were bored. We took a walk in the opposite direction from our parking spot. I felt uncertain of this because I was still nervous about the enemy aircraft. The president was rolling along on the sidewalk, and the sky was becoming increasingly thick with black airplanes of all shapes and sizes. I started feeling anxious and scared. The President remained non-plussed.

The sidewalk ended at a physician's office, and we went in. We made it all the way to the end of the offices and exam rooms, and there was no place else to go. So we turned around and proceeded to head back the way we came - first through the building and then out the street. The street looked more unkempt than it was when we first entered the medical office building, with frost heaves and strong weeds that made it seem dangerous to a wheelchair. As I stepped outside, I looked up and realized that the atmosphere was completely obstructed by the dark airplanes.

At that point, my nervousness reached its apex. I don't think I realized it at the time, but writing now I realized that I felt like I couldn't protect the President any longer, and he seemed to not care. So I pulled out my cell phone to call 911 so I could ask the police to come get us.

I don't remember the other dream. It involved trying to rescue a woman in Pakistan who was seriously injured in a war. Hmmmm.

****

BMG had no interpretation for this one.

Dream #6

I dreamt that I was part of the security detail for my childhood best friend, now grown up (Cindy Scott). We were in a high rise hotel and heard there was going to be a gangland-style attack on her. As the security team was organizing to protect her, I realized that both of my guns were unarmed. Someone handed me a bottle of hairspray to use as a fake weapon. This led to a crisis of confidence - do I use the hairspray, knowing I was 100% vulnerable, or do I skip my role in the security detail in order to save my life? I didn't resolve it in the dream.

*****

BMG says the dream represents the dilemma I feel over having to be good all the time, to the detriment of myself.

Dream #5

I dreamt last night I was eating animal crackers. There was an enormous amount of activity swirling around me, and the dominant part of the dream was my methodical amputation of each animal cracker. I would then use my teeth to gently pry the cookie animal in half laterally, slicing with my front teeth at the vulnerable part where the legs were once attached. Once the cookie was halved, I would then let each side disintegrate into my mouth.

****

I think the dream was about my little self being soothed in the midst of the wackiness of my adult life. (I used food when I was a kid to comfort myself.) Not sure why I needed soothing, but the dream was a little insight into one reason for eating when I am not hungry.

Dream 5

BMG called this one a "helplessness" dream when I gave him the thumbnail sketch when he FINALLY got out of bed this morning at 10:30.

I was in a city somewhere - obviously at work (there were some office characters there), when, in a Space Balls-esque move, a giant black atomic thumb-shaped fighter planes appeared in the sky. They began dropping precision bombs onto the high rise buildings, and the structure in which I was having a meeting was evacuated. As I was running down the stairs, I could see fleets of white planes descending, like locusts, upon the city. Terrified, I fled the building, leaving my purse and my cell phone behind.

I now find myself apparently trapped on an industrial-looking platform with a river on three sides and a 30+ foot high cliff on the fourth. I am surrounded by chain link fence and there is a metal platform above me. For some reason I am with my sister, E. The idea, I think, was to hide here until the confrontation is over, thinking this remote and secluded spot was safe. I come to realize that this hiding place is actually the largest hydro power plant in the area. I quickly become fearful that, contrary to the notion that we are safe in this tucked away part of the world, we are actually in grave danger; because our dream enemies are likely to bomb power sources next. (I read the news, I know what the U.S. did in Iraq.) So, E and I start to scale the chain link fence on the cliff side of the enclosure, hoping at the top we can find certain ground. The platform and the top of the fence meet neatly, except in one spot. After considerable panic and attempts at problem-solving, E and I roll out and find ourselves in barren country, with the smouldering city on the horizon.

We begin to run to find some place where we can borrow a telephone. I know I need to call BMG, who is likely very worried about me. E and I come upon a YMCA and we go in an ask to use the phone. We're told we have to ask Shane, the program director. He is easy to find because he is a good looking Canadian with nice hair. While I'm trying to figure out what makes a Canadian look different from an American, I'm also panicked trying to remember BMG's phone number. (I won't be able to press "2" and get him on the line. I'll need to dial a real, 10-digit phone number.) So, we do find Shane and he does let us borrow a phone. As this happens, I remember BMG's phone number, and triumphantly dial, knowing I will be safe.

*****

A helplessness dream about work, with comfort and confidence with family and safety with BMG. A good dream. And, BMG and I agree that "Atomic Thumb" would be a great name for a band.

Dream 4

As I woke up this morning (at 5:45 AM), I was dreaming about taste testing sushi meat (i.e. raw fish) at Whole Foods in Cambridge. There were three types of sushi meat out - all different types of salmon - except it looked like tuna. None of it tasted very flavorful, even though one piece was doused in sesame oil and seeds. When asked by the salesperson at Whole Foods what I thought I was honest.

*****

I was thinking last night about taking a sushi-making class at one of the local centers for adult ed. I was specifically wondering where one would buy sushi meat - if the fish at Whole Foods was good enough, or if there were specific ethnic markets (e.g. Super 88) where one needed to buy sushi-grade fish.

Dream 2

I had a dream last night, while in BMG's tiny bed, that I found a new 700 square foot apartment in Harvard Square. It was ideally located and I realized that I would be able to get parking permits for both BMG and me - while also maintaining my Somerville parking sticker, at least until January 2008.

*****

Time to move?