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boccaderlupoI dreamed we went out to Queens, one of those residential parts of it where you can't tell where you are...maybe Astoria or some such. There was an old brick house, two floors, with bricks of varying shade and a solid looking porch frame by thick pillars made of the same brickwork. We were there because an old lady had passed away and was giving up two Ocelot-sized cats that resembled small leopards.
My daughter is cat crazy and fell madly in love with them on sight. We stood there in the kitchen of the home, which was surprisingly updated but still kind of smelled of the aged. She was cooing over the tiny leopards, which didn't seem to mind the attention. They were at the same time small but huge, and my daughter would haul them up on her shoulders and let them slink around her as if they were furs draped across her back, as is her wont.The leopards seemed to be okay, and I knew I couldn't deny my daughter these cats, as we had lost a cat earlier in the year.
Then the cat downstairs suddenly emerges. It had somehow followed us all the way out to Queens. It began making a horrible whine like some metal machine, a cry of pure hate. My daughter loves this cat, even though it's not ours per se. It began to attack and maul the leopards maliciously, even though it was a far smaller animal. The leopards' fur was torn up and matted with blood, and my daughter let out a yell and pulled the beloved cat off of them. It didn't look good. The leopards were in shock and ran off to hide, and my daughter ran back to our car with the beloved cat, which was howling away.
*
I dreamed i was now in Rockaway, Queens, out near the water where they have those buildings like projects. I had two of my frail friends with me. Other folks were heading off in cars to our presumed destination, but my one friend wanted to walk around for some reason. There was an inch or two of snow on the ground, and I helped him walk on the boardwalk, which had been shoveled but the melting snow made things slippery and wet. He was a tall thin older man in all denim, and my other friend with M.S., who for some reason was wearing huge skater pants and a pantschain (not his usual attire) said he would sit on one of the cleared benches and wait for us to return before we drove on after the others.
I walked my friend out to what seemed to be a public pool, arm held high under his, supporting what little weight was still on him. He began to shake violently; perhaps the cold was getting to him. We stood on the edge of the pool, which for some reason still had water in it and was mostly covered with eyes. "Here we are at the edge of the world," he said to me, accusingly, as if I had dragged him out there deliberately. And maybe I did. I began to escort him back, past a pack of local youths who were throwing wet snowballs, to where my other friend was sitting and waiting for us. And we got into a black car and sped off.
My daughter is cat crazy and fell madly in love with them on sight. We stood there in the kitchen of the home, which was surprisingly updated but still kind of smelled of the aged. She was cooing over the tiny leopards, which didn't seem to mind the attention. They were at the same time small but huge, and my daughter would haul them up on her shoulders and let them slink around her as if they were furs draped across her back, as is her wont.The leopards seemed to be okay, and I knew I couldn't deny my daughter these cats, as we had lost a cat earlier in the year.
Then the cat downstairs suddenly emerges. It had somehow followed us all the way out to Queens. It began making a horrible whine like some metal machine, a cry of pure hate. My daughter loves this cat, even though it's not ours per se. It began to attack and maul the leopards maliciously, even though it was a far smaller animal. The leopards' fur was torn up and matted with blood, and my daughter let out a yell and pulled the beloved cat off of them. It didn't look good. The leopards were in shock and ran off to hide, and my daughter ran back to our car with the beloved cat, which was howling away.
*
I dreamed i was now in Rockaway, Queens, out near the water where they have those buildings like projects. I had two of my frail friends with me. Other folks were heading off in cars to our presumed destination, but my one friend wanted to walk around for some reason. There was an inch or two of snow on the ground, and I helped him walk on the boardwalk, which had been shoveled but the melting snow made things slippery and wet. He was a tall thin older man in all denim, and my other friend with M.S., who for some reason was wearing huge skater pants and a pantschain (not his usual attire) said he would sit on one of the cleared benches and wait for us to return before we drove on after the others.
I walked my friend out to what seemed to be a public pool, arm held high under his, supporting what little weight was still on him. He began to shake violently; perhaps the cold was getting to him. We stood on the edge of the pool, which for some reason still had water in it and was mostly covered with eyes. "Here we are at the edge of the world," he said to me, accusingly, as if I had dragged him out there deliberately. And maybe I did. I began to escort him back, past a pack of local youths who were throwing wet snowballs, to where my other friend was sitting and waiting for us. And we got into a black car and sped off.
