A Muslim Cheetah
Dreamed 2004/12/2 by Wayan
Family reunion. I talked mostly with my sisters. ALTHEA is worried about her daughter, who lies to her and lives with rather shady, druggy characters. MIRIEL went on & on about the Enneagram system with its nine psychological types or stages, telling me what type I was. I didn't see much in it. Tried to hide my boredom and skepticism.
I'm a spy, and have been for years. I keep facing off against a team of two saboteurs--Muslim fundamentalists. One's a pseudo-intellectual guy, in it for ideological reasons I find pointless--just like a million other extremists. But the other...
She's a cheetah girl. Biped, digitigrade, short-furred, slender, graceful. Cheetah appetites (whether dietary or sexual) just aren't like human ones, and to me it seems crazy to follow a faith with a rigid code tailored for crazy monkeys, not cats at all! But she does. Wears a scarf. And nothing else.
I think she does it for fun. Making us monkeys run and scream is even better than hunting.
She's a charmer, and uses it on me all the time. I do find her attractive--until I recall her values.
Today we've been fighting over an alien ambassador I'm supposed to protect--this short round woman (quite humanoid; she can pass for Terran). I towed her through tourist crowds and city streets on a little wheeled cart. Now I'm trying to get her somewhere safe from the saboteurs, for the night.
At last, on a wooden deck high in Pacific Heights, I meet the two saboteurs and for once, I lose my temper and tell them off. They seem amused at my anger. My feelings toward the guy are unmixed dislike; but I'm troubled by the cat girl because (despite myself) I'm attracted.
She just laughs at the silly monkey. "What do you expect? You're not such a catch that I'd switch my faith, allegiance and whole lifestyle just to suit YOU."
Well... fair's fair. I'd never convert to some stupid, violent cult for HER. Yet she did--for her teacher. A monkey like me.
Oh, despite her talk about cat independence she respects some monkeys. I just think she respects the wrong ones. The one who calls himself her teacher, and that long-dead one who called himself a prophet.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
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