At first I was watching other people’s computer screens from my own computer, but then it became apparent that I was watching from inside people’s heads who were looking at their computer screens, because I began to see hands come up to faces, or the scene would shift away from the computer. I could somehow do this online, and I watched Niki watch a show on her screen that at first I wasn’t sure about, then I saw the actor who played Alan Quartermaine on General Hospital. Then I realized I was getting internet at my apartment, and that was pretty cool. MSN messenger was up and I noticed Niki’s name was displayed in symbols that at first I couldn’t understand, then I realized they were shaped like the letters of Niki’s name. The screen was pretty foggy/staticky until I moved into people’s heads, then the screens cleared up quite a bit.
I could also see a former high school teacher’s screen, which wasn’t too interesting. Then I was somehow at a public area, like an outside cafe, and I saw a dude I used to know and somewhat wished to avoid, so I ducked behind my laptop screen until he passed. It didn’t quite look exactly right, but it seemed like it was the right person.
Then, somehow (and this might have been another dream), I was inside a gated community carrying Cuddles and Isis (former cat companions, both black) and I was walking with someone who seemed to be carrying Toby (the newest of the Moma’s brood). Someone else was carrying a large whitish cat who seemed to have orange tips to each strand of its fur. It was rather strange looking, and it was a –really- furry cat.
We were there to pick up a frozen Garfield and bring it to people outside of the community. It felt cold, so I changed the way I was carrying the cats, to better share my body heat with them, and they weren’t reacting like they usually would to the way they were being carried. I set the cats down to pick up the Garfield, which seemed to be a real cat who had been frozen, because I picked it up by the leg and it felt like a real leg, with the bones within its skin, and I hoped it wouldn’t break, but it seemed to be a toy as well, like the ones my cousin Kayla had when she was little, but it was frozen, as if it had been moistened and put in a freezer. I think it was my mom who was carrying Toby at this point, and she picked up Cuddles too, so I only had to carry Isis and this frozen Garfield.
On the way out, there were motion detectors that turned on lights, but it didn’t last long. The gates opened when we stood before them, which I thought wasn’t a useful security precaution at all if they just worked for everyone, and waiting outside the road was a person to whom the Garfield was to be delivered. I saw Toby running along the road and saw a minivan coming, so I called for him so he would come quickly, but the van slowed and turned into a driveway across the street without using its blinker.
Interpretation (11:11 am): So the frozen Garfield probably seems really weird, but I think it’s a reference to the fact that Isis’ body is still frozen in my mother’s freezer. I don’t know what the cats themselves represent, but they are all cats I really love and had an instant connection with. I’m definitely a cat person, and it seems right around when we’ve lost cats, another has come very quickly to us. The longest my mom has been without a cat since I’ve been born was maybe a month or so, and that was when I was three or four and we found our cat Big Eyes on the highway. I thought it was really weird that I couldn’t cry for him, but I didn’t cry for any animal’s death, even teeny kittens, until Isis died in February, and my mom and I both cried more for her than we did for her mother. There are times when I still cry about Isis, like now (I even cried about her death when she was a kitten ten years ago because I had become so attached to her so quickly), but I only cried twice for my grandmother. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her, I just didn’t feel her loss the way I do Izzy’s. Isis and Cuddles have been the cats that have visited me after their passing. Honestly, I still get teary sometimes thinking about Steve Irwin’s death, and I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe because he was a sorely needed champion of the planet, and had two young children and a wife who was deeply in love with him. Maybe because he was a truly lovely person who lived his dream although it would take him to an inevitable early end.
Grief is a strange feeling, and I’m not sure why I grieve for who I do, and don’t grieve for those I don’t. For some people it seems okay that they’ve left their bodies, like my grandfather, who didn’t really seem to care to be alive anymore after my grandmother’s passing. It seemed like a joyful occasion to me because he was finally free (and I was actually quite envious of him at the time). It was then that I realized people grieve for themselves. If I see a dead person in my dreams, I don’t hesitate to notify them that they’re dead, but when a cat shows up in my dreams, I’m just glad to see them.
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