Cat

Last night I dreamt about a cat, just like my parent's old cat, Milly. Milly was black and white, skinny, and a good mouser. In my dream the cat had a string tied to its tail. The string was on fire. Like a wick the fire slowly crept along the string. I watched and waited for it to burn out; it didn't. As the hair at the tip of the cat's tail began to burn I began to feel my hands. In many of my dreams, including this one, I am just a passive observer without a body. As the fire wicked up the cat's tail and along its spine the rest of my person came into being. I smelt burning hair. The cat, patient until now, began to writhe. I picked the cat up by the skin on the back of its neck, the way mommy cats do with their kittens. The flames flicked around my fingers as I put the cat in a five gallon bucket with six or seven inches of water in it. The flames turned blue and hissed as if the water turned the cat's hair to flash powder; they quickly singed off the rest of its hair and burned out. I let go of the cat, which had by now shrunken to the size of a kitten, and it floated with its nose barely being lapped by the water. Deeming the fire to be out I took the fluffy yellow kitten out of the bucket and laid it on its side. I could see its heart beating fast. I pet it and it purred.

My parent's cat named Milly died or disappeared a few months ago. I don't remember which, but they got a new cat, a fluffy yellow kitten named Tommy. Tommy is a promising mouser.