And then a few days ago I woke up sweating in the morning, remembering a dream I was sure I had many, many times. It was clear to me that I did have that dream periodically. Or it was more like I was dreaming something and then that piece of dream inserted itself in the main feature. The insertion was my cat. In the kitchen. Coming out of nowhere. Skinny, I mean not really skinny, but enough to make you think « what’s wrong with it?�? and in my dream, I just remember thinking, « fuck! I forgot to feed the cat », and as fast as could, I would grab a box of dry cat food, or if there wasn’t any left, I would open a can of tuna, or cut pieces of the fat around ham and spill it in a plate near the washing machine, and look at it throw itself on the food, eating greedily, and I would feel really relieved. Every time, it was as if it has been on the barge of getting bad, but hadn’t. I had that fucking dream over and over again, and every time I felt so relieved after it had eaten up. But the dream would eventually come back. Until a few days ago, I woke up sweating in the morning.
I never dreamt of it again.