last one I promise
Also, I had another funny dream. It wasn't a false-waking though.
I was at my friend's parents' house, along with his extended family. After some time with them, I'd ended up going upstairs alone. When I got to the top of the stairs, a dark grey Scottish Fold cat hopped down off the railing and began to purr, rubbing against my leg. My first thought was that I didn't know they had a cat, and they my friend knew I loved Scottish Folds, so it was weird that he didn't tell me. My next thought was how strange this cat was. It was slightly but not freakishly large in body, but its legs were too long so it stood incomprehensibly tall, and when it brushed against my leg it felt like a large, strong animal, not quite knocking me over but pressing quite hard. Also, there was something odd with its face. It was a bit too large perhaps, but mostly it seemed strangely intelligent and strange in a way I could not identify.
I began to pet it and make cooing cat noises at it, befriendingly. First it meowed back, and then it meowed again, only this time instead of a proper meow it was like a human voice saying the word 'meow.' Then it began walking away from me, continuing to speak as a human and seeming to mock cooing cat noises that humans make, dead-panning: "Meow meow meow. Oo, you're a cat. Mew. Kitten catty cat. Chairman Meow," and so on. As I stared, puzzled, it continued to speak, now in a more usual way, but I couldn't quite connect the sentences it spoke into an intelligible meaning. I concluded that this cat, like some parrots, imitated things it often heard, and I was now being made privy to the regular, private concerns of the household, and that this is why I hadn't been told about the cat.
With some bemusement, I followed it around the corner to hear more. But when I got around the corner, the cat had transformed into a woman. We proceeded to have a long and entirely delightful conversation about philosophy and music, and I was left absolutely entranced by the stunning thing.
After the talk, I went back toward the stairs and met up with my friend and his family. Somehow, they realized what had gone on, and it became apparent to everyone that I was planning on pursuing a relationship with the cat. With unusual seriousness, they all demanded I completely abandon any such plans and never return again, nor speak of it to anyone. Somewhat taken aback, I responded sarcastically, "What's the big deal? You guys are acting like she eats her lovers when she's done with them." As soon as I'd said it, it was clear that this was exactly the case, and the horror of this household was a dozen gnawed skeletons in the backyard left by a murderous and magical cat they both loved and feared too much to oppose.
"She'll only spare you if you haven't had drinks with my father," my friend's sister said. "Well fine! I haven't" I replied. "But you did!" Indignantly, I objected that lemonaide does not count as "having a drink." As I woke up, I had the sense of an extended and bitter argument about whether or not that was true.
I was at my friend's parents' house, along with his extended family. After some time with them, I'd ended up going upstairs alone. When I got to the top of the stairs, a dark grey Scottish Fold cat hopped down off the railing and began to purr, rubbing against my leg. My first thought was that I didn't know they had a cat, and they my friend knew I loved Scottish Folds, so it was weird that he didn't tell me. My next thought was how strange this cat was. It was slightly but not freakishly large in body, but its legs were too long so it stood incomprehensibly tall, and when it brushed against my leg it felt like a large, strong animal, not quite knocking me over but pressing quite hard. Also, there was something odd with its face. It was a bit too large perhaps, but mostly it seemed strangely intelligent and strange in a way I could not identify.
I began to pet it and make cooing cat noises at it, befriendingly. First it meowed back, and then it meowed again, only this time instead of a proper meow it was like a human voice saying the word 'meow.' Then it began walking away from me, continuing to speak as a human and seeming to mock cooing cat noises that humans make, dead-panning: "Meow meow meow. Oo, you're a cat. Mew. Kitten catty cat. Chairman Meow," and so on. As I stared, puzzled, it continued to speak, now in a more usual way, but I couldn't quite connect the sentences it spoke into an intelligible meaning. I concluded that this cat, like some parrots, imitated things it often heard, and I was now being made privy to the regular, private concerns of the household, and that this is why I hadn't been told about the cat.
With some bemusement, I followed it around the corner to hear more. But when I got around the corner, the cat had transformed into a woman. We proceeded to have a long and entirely delightful conversation about philosophy and music, and I was left absolutely entranced by the stunning thing.
After the talk, I went back toward the stairs and met up with my friend and his family. Somehow, they realized what had gone on, and it became apparent to everyone that I was planning on pursuing a relationship with the cat. With unusual seriousness, they all demanded I completely abandon any such plans and never return again, nor speak of it to anyone. Somewhat taken aback, I responded sarcastically, "What's the big deal? You guys are acting like she eats her lovers when she's done with them." As soon as I'd said it, it was clear that this was exactly the case, and the horror of this household was a dozen gnawed skeletons in the backyard left by a murderous and magical cat they both loved and feared too much to oppose.
"She'll only spare you if you haven't had drinks with my father," my friend's sister said. "Well fine! I haven't" I replied. "But you did!" Indignantly, I objected that lemonaide does not count as "having a drink." As I woke up, I had the sense of an extended and bitter argument about whether or not that was true.