Cat Repels Dinosaurs
Dreamed 1984/8/12 by Wayan
I tackle the garden after weeks of procrastination. Crush the drifts of dry leaves under the rosebushes to create a mulch. The most effective way's with my bare hands... except that one leaf out of a hundred hides a thorn. And I'm allergic--every little scratch swells and burns. Force myself to finish, bleeding. Swollen-handed, I write a poem...
Scoops of mummy
The stempoke of each
The dead rose wants not
Casually I smashed
As I crush dry structures, clear
My pummels, and the crunch-resist,
If I scoop life
I fear this now, but fear's a healthy pall
No gamble: life's a bed and house of nails:
Slow, slow now I crush.
Forever in kind sand or pillowed snow
In kind sand or pillowed snow,
I watch the 1980 movie Little Darlings. Tatum O'Neal and Kristy McNichol, two teens at a summercamp, place bets and race to lose their virginity. I expected no more than a teen sex farce, just (maybe) one that let girls have major speaking roles for a change.
But...beneath its summercamp surface, surprising depth. The emotional consequences of Tatum's and Kristy's stupid bet turn serious.
I'm a librarian on a world unique--
craters, basins of dried-up oceans,
waxy flowstone terrace-formations--
sensual, sculptural, but O they reek.
That bad-egg stink presages each raid
Up comes the library cat. Colleagues insist
in case it's true. Those dino infestations
I'm told the cat's half-wild, avoids the staff.
But she lets me pet and carry her. Do I feel
more feline? She's no feral. Watch her patrol
the chick lit stacks. Beams at the peeping fluff
on shelves, the baby chicks. Bites Rex alone.
I check online--the Center for Important Cats.
Spices my alien hotspring stinky
DREAM NOTES (2020)
I worked in a library, so no mystery there. But the careful anonymity of the Important Cat... as if she was a witness in a protection program...
Is she my own body, whose hands I callously thorn-slashed? Or one of the Little Darlings, burned by the emotional intensity of first sex? That's hinted at by the dream's 'chick lit' pun, and the implied second pun all through it: that traumatized pussy! Five years earlier I'd left an abusive partner who'd nearly killed me; I was still skittish. Longed to be petted, but wouldn't let anyone... pick me up.
Today, tentatively, I'd say that cat was Sunshine, the hippie girl--'chick'--who eventually flattens her bully. And more importantly, her brainwashing.
Took me years. Even after the dream.
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