Writing It Out
That was the advice I received yesterday and again this morning. Both days I woke up crying. Both nights I dreamed of Charlie. I have to say, the only times I’ve ever dreamed of a pet after they’ve gone missing was so I could say ‘good-bye’. I hate that! I really do! I don’t want Charlie to be gone. I want him to come home. So I posted again on FB and Craig’s List. Some of my friends took pity on me and share the flyer…thank you! I even got in touch with animal control again. They have two absolutely beautiful black male cats…one with double paws….they’re up for adoption but they’re older cats and they are not Charlie. I asked them to post my flyer on their page since I noticed they were doing that for other people in town.
I don’t know which is worse; hoping or not hoping. After all, we all know that….
Not knowing, I guess that’s the worse thing of all.
Two nights ago I dreamed I was riding in a car and Charlie was on my shoulder–that’s the first clue he’s gone, he’s on the shoulder not the lap–he kept looking around and staring at me with those big copper penny eyes. I woke up feeling dread weighing down my heart. I went through the day and I didn’t complain. Last night I had the most horrible dream! There was a glass cage full of black cats–many of which had once been mine–some were full grown and others were just tiny kittens. I went to open the top and take them out and was firmly told ‘no’ by a man I couldn’t see at first. Then he came into view. Ares. The one from TV. My buddy always comes to me in that form in dreams even though we both know that’s not how he really appears it’s just easier for my brain to wrap around and…well…we still have that side deal about me not seeing his real face until after I’m dead and gone. I looked up at him and told him some of those were my cats, in fact, THERE’S CHARLIE! I tried to open it again and he slapped my hand hard. “NO! You can’t open it.” I was confused, I asked why and was instantly sorry. “They’re all rabid,” he stated. At first I thought he said they were RABBITS but that was not the case. “We have to test them.”
“Test? TEST? You’re gonna CUT OFF their HEADS!” I stomped my foot. “NO!” I tried to open the cage again. “There’s no stupid test just death.” Then I said some mean shit, something along the lines of him just wanting to kill something and he’d probably whack off their heads while they were still alive just for the fuckin’ fun of it.
He pushed me away. “I know you’re upset so I’ll let that go but I said: Don’t touch them.”
OH…I burst into tears right then and there inside the dream. I started yelling and screaming that they weren’t rabid and he wasn’t cutting off any heads! I told him he was mean! He was liar! Get outta my way! He just shook his head and said ‘no’. I sat on the floor in front of the glass cage with the cats looking at me and scratching at the glass. Each one looked perfectly healthy and lonely and sad. Like me. Suddenly one of the corners started opening and one of the kittens squeezed out. It ran up to me. It settled in my lap and looked up at with the bluest eyes. I went to pet it. He slapped my hand and put the kitten back in the cage. “I know it hurts but you can’t touch them. They’re rabid. What don’t you understand about that?” I got up, balled up my little fist and went to hit him. He took half a step back, shook his head again, looked at me sadly and then…the dream faded away. I woke up crying. I’m still crying.
As I got dressed I heard something about ‘hormonal women’ in my head and said–in my head–; We both know, I’ll never be ‘hormonal’ again. This is not hormones. I want my cat! Give him back!
I’ve been telling him that for nearly two weeks. He tells me he doesn’t have the cat, he doesn’t even like cats, and he’s sorry but he didn’t know he was supposed to be watching over my cat.
If ‘Red’ were here I’d ask him one question: How do you stop hoping? How do you just give up? I’d like to know so I can do it too.