The Anger in Our Dreams

 

I wonder where it comes from, the anger in our dreams? Is it left over, unspent anger from the day or is it freshly generated for the occasion? No matter. I'm just here to report, not editorialize. 

I dreamed about Sharon, Meaty, Dummy and a baby chick. Sharon was in bed, while I was up and surveying a mess in the living room, created by our two cats, Meaty and Dummy. They had gotten into some fresh eggs, and there was a mess of shells and yolks strewn about the tile floor. 

The disheveled furniture indicated that a great struggle had taken place. I spied a lone baby chick trying to hide its tiny yellow body from the predators. I scooped up the little creature and began to pet its feathers. I spoke soothingly to it as I brought it into the bedroom to show Sharon.

"It looks like I'm going to be in the chicken raising business sooner than I had expected," I said mentally making plans for a chicken wire enclosure in the house. "I'll need to set up a heat lamp, build a cage, etc..." Sharon was keen on the idea, but as usual was quick to add her knowledge and experience to the discussion, quelling my enthusiasm somewhat.

In the process of me grabbing for a roll of recently purchased chicken wire, I dropped the chick. It scurried off into the waiting maw of Meaty. 

I chased the cat around, cursing and screaming, "I hate you! Let it go! Let it go! I hate you! You evil, vile killer!"

It was no use. The chick was already eaten, only a few feathers protruding from the fat cat's smug mouth. I went in to the bedroom to report the sad event to Sharon and found her already crying.

"I heard you yelling at the cat," she said. 

I knew that she was just as upset at me for my anger as she was about the little chick's demise and not at all at Meaty, who was, after all, just being a cat. Some kind of discussion of blame and proper chicken handling procedures ensued, with me being the shamed student and her, the wise bedridden Buddha. 

It ended there, the anger still present, along with the adrenaline from the chasing of the cat, as I awoke.

I went outside to turn off the sprinklers before they came on at 6 o'clock and ruined my chances for mowing this Saturday morning. The guinea hens were all perched in a row on the back fence, unaware of my nocturnal chicken tragedy. 

Good, now on with the day, before I lose momentum.