The Tiger Dream

You can never know what the things you say in your waking world may end up inhabiting your dreams.

My cat’s official whole name is “Henry the Love Sponge.” See, this cat came into my Dad’s wife’s place of work, which is kind of a warehouse. This happened the day after one of the greatest cats of all time, Anna Banana, had been struck to her death by a car.

So Ellen, my Dad’s wife, took on this boy because she was the only one in the place who could wrangle him. But she and my Dad were trying to retire from the cat business, and after Anna, they had one cat standing, a beautiful black girl cat who has to eat every five minutes because of a thyroid condition, which is not unusual for a 20-year-old cat.

So anyway, I have a cat now. This guy. Henry the Love Sponge.

Now when they were taking care of him, Henry didn’t play much; he mainly just hung out on their porch waiting for a human to sit next to him. But I knew that for this one-bedroom apartment fellow, play would be vital. Luckily, we unlocked that box pretty quickly.

Among the narratives I started using for this boy was that he secretly believes himself to be a ferocious tiger. Specifically, I say to him something along the lines of

ROAR! I’M A TIGER!

Which may explain why, in my dreams in my last sleep session, I dreamt I was literally under attack by a large, tenacious tiger. My boy isn’t quite as menacing as the one that was in my dream, but man, does he have some big tiger energy.

Dream

Last sleep’s dream was an “unexpected trip” dream. Of course I showed up to the security line without my carry-on and therefore without any toiletries. For some reason, I was carrying around silverware, which my TSA person, played by Chandra Wilson, immediately threw into the trash.

Totus Ardeo

I had a dream last night where I had stumbled across a group conducting a performance of the Carmina Burana. I was in the audience eagerly following along in my score as per usual, but as they drew closer to the ending, they’d throw in their own little versions of movements, so I couldn’t follow them at all. To make it even worse, right before “Tempus Est Iocundum,” which is the one that nobody can WAIT to get to because it’s fun as hell to sing, they stopped and started giving out a whole bunch of awards. I couldn’t stand it, so I called them a bunch of hicks and left, but when I got to my jalopy, I found that the trunk lid was wide open. Then I had to drive down a big hill, and the interstate signs didn’t make any sense. The end.

Also, I am pleased to announce that a domain name I had purchased some years ago (for obvious reasons), aaronpryor.com, but had never used for much, is getting put to better use as of today, representing the greatest junior welterweight fighter ever.