My former tortoiseshell cat Poodle arrived at the window of my bedroom at night. I was inside with a buff blonde man wearing dirty work clothes. My mind was fuzzy like I was on drugs. I didn't know the man very well but I didn't mind that he was there.

There were two brown cats already in the room with us, both with very large builds, the size of bobcats. When I noticed plump little Poodle on the other side of the window, I hesitated to let her in, I felt danger in an ambient way.

But I opened the window to let her in, because my mood at that moment was reckless; I just wanted to see what might happen with the night, wherever it went.

Once inside the room, she turned a brilliant, almost neon orange, like Tony the Tiger from Frosted Flakes fame. Her dappled calico patterning morphed into distinct black squiggles in orange fur, like wormy tiger stripes. She was the only cartoon in the room. It was awful-looking but didn't last long, she went back to be being fluffy and normal within a few seconds.

Within seconds, the three cats began to fight in the center of the room. The blonde man and I watch from the sidelines, I didn't think much of it in the first few moments, like it was something I expected. Then I noticed the fight was extremely fierce and blood was already spritzed all over the floor. I could see that Poodle was being badly hurt. I screamed and jumped in, trying to pull her away from the other two cats and then watched as her ear was torn off by one of the big brown cats and saw the tendon of her foot was showing where the fur and skin had been viciously ripped off.

As I tried to pull Poodle out my arm was mauled in the fray. As I finally was able to grab her and pull her out, I realized she was torn apart, her fur bloody and matted all over. She was limp and ravaged to pieces in my arms, like a warm pile of dirty rags.

I felt so devastated and responsible. I felt I couldn't live past the tragedy of that moment, standing there, cradling her body in my arms.

NOTES

• The buff blonde construction worker-man represents sexual distraction. Distinct from sexual attraction or desire, my attraction to him and his presence has more in common with my draw to a video game or shitty TV show than actual carnal desire. My mind then goes out to roam like a gargantuan bovine, lazily looking for something, eating grass along the way. So, this guy in the dream, he wasn't my type at all, my interest in him was purely escapist. He symbolizes the aura of sexual possibility and demonstrates how intoxicating that can be to a wandering mind.
• My state of mind in the dream--fuzzy, drugged-- was likely representative of my general state of affairs then. I was smoking a lot of weed which can be clarifying, but sometimes is like diving into a mucoid swamp, and this was one of those times.
• The angelic character, Poodle the cat. An innocent. She symbolizes a neglected child. I don't have any children. I wonder if this dream is an emanation from my blood, a ghastly reminder that I am a woman, I should have birthed children by now, that this kind of responsibility is hardwired. She was the only baby I really ever had. I gave her to my sister because I was moving. I don't remember the circumstances. I didn't think about too much then.
• Who were the big brown cats? Anonymous wickedness. I don't know what else they could represent.

EDITOR'S NOTE

I think your explanation makes sense as far as it goes, but you gave Poodle away years ago; it seems strange that guilt about it would erupt now, all of a sudden. And it's so intense! If I dreamed this, I'd wonder if I'm recklessly giving up something or someone NOW, at a higher cost than I realize, so the dream dredges up an old example of the same mistake. But what?

--Chris Wayan

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