I had a bizarre dream last night.
Got to sleep late. Watched series-finale of Turn and Orphan Black and Orphan Black killed me. I will miss that show. Attempted to watch Torchwood and I just couldn’t get into it. I didn’t dislike it at all, but I’m from the USA where the flashy ‘city is the character too’ style of procedural production is a standard. While the characterization was top notch, the stories were lukewarm, and the whole procedural vibe felt tired. Sleep came quickly.
In my dream, I walk into an informal dining area and sit with strangers. I notice a blood trail on the floor and follow it to a foyer where I find a small injured cat. No one seems to care that the cat is hurt. Two cats I know are there – Lee, my main girl, and Fae, a cat we fostered two years ago that never got on with Lee. I had a sense that Fae might’ve attacked the little one, but I wasn’t sure. Fae saw me and ran down a long hall that had one of those checker board floors. I collect the injured kitten and take her back to the dining room.
While sitting at a table, I examine her injuries. I see blood and fur, and some serious tearing. Just then, Lee runs under the table. I lift the tablecloth to see what’s wrong and find her tail, detached and bloody. Lee cowers under the table in a what seems like a large cereal box with a narrow opening in the front. Fae shows up, bats at the tail, and then makes a move to attack Lee. I snatch Fae up and have both hands tight around her shoulders and forearms. Fae bites me, hard. In my rage, I hold her tighter, but she doesn’t twist about or cry out. I carry her back to the checkerboard hallway…When I wake up, I can still see the detached tail.
I felt awful seeing my cat hurt, and I’m angry I couldn’t stop Lee from being attacked. As a writer that’s been writing since before the internet-age, I have an extensive research library of dead-tree books. I pull down the “what your dreams mean” book from the shelf and look up the word ‘cat.’
I won’t go into it here because most of you know how to google, but at least now I know why I had this dream.
Yesterday, the spouse and I were watching tv. When I griped about the sexist attitude on display by one of the male characters, my spouse said something to the effect of – you’re a man-basher. I took umbrage because I don’t feel like I find fault with every man I meet, but I am quick to call out shitty behavior when I see it. I see it all the fucking time, and so I grouse. On Friday I had one of those existential meltdowns. Alone in my writing studio (nothing fabulous mind you, just a tricked out extra room in a townhome), I lamented the state of my series. I’m developmentally behind schedule. The schedule I set for myself had me completing FINAL edits on the second round of episodes by summer; I’m still cleaning up style and proof issues on the first set. 0_0 The series starts at year’s end, and my goal to have ten episodes ready for prime time on release day, is not going to happen. I must release with three, and this will keep me in a state of breakneck deadlines.
Those two incidents are why I had this fucked up dream.