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disordered cat

February 1, 2011

For the first time in months, I slept very, very soundly last night. Usually, the night goes something like this:

10:30–get in bed

11:00–fall asleep

1:15–hear a noise, check the locks, go back to sleep

3:00–notice that Pete’s breathing pattern has changed, check to make sure he’s alive, notice a strange shadow in the corner of the room, debate checking shadow, check shadow, go back to sleep

5:45–wake up to pee, go back to sleep

6:55–Pete’s alarm goes off, stay in bed

7:30–Pete gets ready to go to work, I finally roll out of the covers

But last night, it seemed that as soon as I hit the pillow I was asleep, and I’m 97% sure I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to pee, check locks, or cry about Pete’s snoring. I was so asleep that when the alarm rang at 6:55 on Pete’s phone this morning, I kept my eyes closed, rolled back over, and napped a wee bit longer. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but this sleep was the stuff that dreams are made of.

By now, you’ve probably begun to think that the lengthy explanation of my sleeping patterns is almost surely the buildup to an excellent excuse of why I don’t have a dream to tell. Well, you’re wrong.

Last night I dreamed (dreamt?) I was locked in a bedroom with a girl who had many, many friends. There were dozens of people in the room, some sitting very, very close to me. Whenever I asked the girl a question, a different friend would answer. These friends were all so different: one was a dirty toothless homeless person, another a cheerful little girl, and another was a blood-soaked doctor. I blinked, and suddenly it was only me and a cat.

It turns out the cat (brown and white tabby) had multiple personality disorder, and also believed it was a human. It stuck its tongue out at me, with its gross abnormally-long tongue.

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