I had a stuffed cat, which I filled with things. It wasn't a toy, but an actual cat. All kinds of precious things. I don't know how I put them in and how the cat was alive. And then one day I came home and found the cat dead. Its eyes wide and staring, its fur almost wet - or maybe even gelled. I could see that all of my wonderful things were inside it. I just had to reach into its back and take them out. And I just couldn't do it. Its dead eyes were staring and I couldn't fathom reaching into it. I couldn't go near it. I also dislike cats intensely. I don't like being near them. They give me the creeps. One of my favorite cousins is one of the last people I'd visit because of this. This is the reason I'm never 100% comfortable at D's parents' home. So I stood there looking at it and its dead open eyes. Finally I had someone else take all of my precious things out of it for me. I don't know if I even touched those things.
A few nights ago I had a dream. And that dream is giving me shivers even today when I think about it.
DreamDictionary.Com: To see a cat in your dream, symbolizes an independent spirit, feminine sexuality, creativity, and power. It also represents misfortune and bad luck. The cat could indicate that someone is being deceitful or treacherous toward you. If the cat is aggressive, then it suggests that you are having problems with the feminine aspect of yourself. The dream may be a metaphor for "cattiness" or someone who is "catty" and malicious. If you see a cat with no tail, then it signifies a loss of independence and lack of autonomy.
So...I had put everything that was precious to me into my independent spirit, my feminine sexuality, creativity and power? And then it died?
So...misfortune and bad luck? But it's dead?
Someone was being deceitful and treacherous but now no more?
I don't usually examine my dreams too deeply. This is mainly because my dreams are hyper-influenced by whatever is going on around me. If I stub my toe, there's about a 90% chance that I'll dream about pain or toes or some combination thereof that night. If I watch a movie about murder and mayhem, I can pretty much guarantee that I wake up sweating in the middle of the night. Jurassic Park and Sound of Music are films that have produced dreams I still remember today.
But some dreams stick with you.
Like the one about traveling in a train wearing a burka with a huge black dog at my feet.
Like the one where I held one grandfather's hand as the other one lifted off in a huge hot air balloon.
And others I don't like to think of too much.
So today as I sit here still getting the creeps about this dream I am tempted to look into the dream dictionaries that scatter the internet. Perhaps it's just a function of the hundreds of moving parts in my life, the hundreds of unanswered questions, the millions of uncertainties. I am a creature of habit and planning, and in my planner everything after July 31 just disappears. Is this why I'm searching for meaning in a dream? Is this why I'm taking the least concrete thing in my day to day existence and, in a fit of silly moping, laying a foundation on it?
Or maybe it's the fact that there is a part of me that irrationally, superstitiously, impossibly, believes that dreams can tell us things. Call it intuition gaining a visible form in the subconscious. Call it mere imagination more powerful because of the stage set by sleep. Call it silliness. But somehow, I can't quite believe that a dream is just a dream.
And for now those dead cat eyes still stare, and I am still standing paralysed ten feet away.