As Told To Sam

I have not been sleeping well. As in, every other night I sleep, and when I do, it's more due, probably, to the muscle relaxant I take in late evening. So in that regard, I'm like Patsy.

Oh, and the night—well, just read the previous entry about the dreams. But I caught something of a break last night with a dream that was just a bit...weird. It involved Walter, the cat.

But first, some backstory. When I'm laying down on the sofa, I'm usually on my side but leaned back against the back of the sofa. Sort of a 45° angle. Walter likes to climb up on me, waits for me to get a little flatter and then tests the afghan for the gap between my chest and my arm. When he's satisfied that the nestling space is to his liking, he'll step with one paw off of my chest over the gap and onto my arm. Then he'll drop and curl up, usually with his head nearly touching mine. It's sweet and I feel useful. At least I'm sufficient (most of the time) as a kitty bed.

So I told Sam about the dream I had. “I had a dream last night that Walter was standing on top of me, but instead of finding his ‘spot’, he dropped onto his belly, y'know, like a Sphinx. And he was staring at me. Staring at me and it seemed like he was trying to tell me something. But I couldn't understand him. Frustrating.”

Sam answered, “You know what he was trying to say?

“Meow.”

And I think it was.