Skip to main content

Too Many Animals

This is a reoccurring dream I have where I discover that I have a lot of small animals (usually gerbils or fish) that I've forgotten about.  I haven't cleaned or fed them in a very long time.  When I remember about them, I find that instead of dying, they've multiplied.
Last night I had this dream with some strange twists to it.  First of all, the dream was semi-lucid.  Second of all, it involved rats.  In other words, even though I know it's just a dream, the animals are getting bigger.

I was cleaning my rats when I realized that there were a lot more of them.  There were around 16 of them, all stuffed into the cage which meant that some would be females.  I picked up an especially soft black rat and did a gender check on her.  She was a girl.  I definitely needed another cage.
I went into the basement to get another cage.  There were lots of cages and aquarium down here and all of them were full of animals.  I had fish in fish tanks, gerbils and rats in cages.
"I haven't fed any of these animals since the last time I had this dream," I thought, "I wonder if some of them are dead."  Every time I thought a particular animal might be dead, it would move, proving that all of them were still alive.  All this time, I was still holding a rat and looking for a cage.  I couldn't find anything to put the rat in.

So here's the big question: just exactly what does that mean?   This dream must mean something to me if it keeps repeating.  This one seems to be getting worse instead of moving to a resolution.

Popular posts from this blog

Short Story: Distraction

It was an office, not unlike any of the other offices around the city. There were windows, visible to the lucky few cubes on the ends of the rows. Then there was Vera's cube, situated next to the row of manager's offices. Today she was lucky, someone had left their door open and precious slant of sunlight escaped, warming her back and washing out half of her computer screen. "I never realized your hair was red," Tracy dumped a large stack of paper on her desk, "The florescent lights make everything look so soupy." "What is that?" she pointed at the stack of paper. Tracy only offered compliments when he wanted a favor. "I need this entered," he smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "You have a secretary," Vera waved a freckled hand to her left, "Ask him." "He's sick," Tracy gave her puppy-dog eyes, batting his long dark eyelashes. Vera sighed and fought back a smile. Tracy was such a s...

Poetry and Stuff

Grief:Peripheral The flicker of bluish light filters out what is missing; there is only one set of boots by the door, an apple sits on the counter uneaten, and even if you don’t make a sound, the notch in your heart is nothing personal. ____________________________ Yeah, I know I said no poetry, but I lied. From The Culling, because what girl doesn't dream of  owning a library with a ladder?  I just posted the last chapter of The Bond, which I'm not 100% satisfied with.  It is the end of this novella, but the story continues in the next book of the series.  One of my biggest problems is I don't have a title for the next novella.  The working title was "The Break," which doesn't really work.  If you have an idea or two, throw 'em in the comments.  

Short Story: Spilled Coffee

“Ooooooh Veeeera, why are you still here?” Tracy walked by Vera’s cube, a white coffee mug in one hand. “I’m working on the report that you need on Monday,” Vera spun in her chair to face him, “You know, the one you didn’t ask for until it was 3:30 PM on the night before Thanksgiving.” Tracy lifted his mug as if he were about to toast her, “You can do it on Monday, as long as it’s on my desk by eight.” “I’m not coming in at six in the morning on a post-holiday Monday.  I’ll just get it done tonight,” Vera turned her back towards Tracy.  There was no point in arguing with him, he always won.  She continued working, setting up different fields and writing queries.  She was so immersed in her work, that a sudden movement off to her left startled her.  Caught off guard, Vera jerked, her hand connecting with a coffee mug. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the flash of Tracy’s blonde curls, the tidal wave of coffee cresting the lip of the mug, and...