Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson


June 11, 2008 -
Dream Convicts

Recently, I dreamt I was at Mom's place, staying in my old room.

When I came back from having been out, there were two guys in my room. One of them I didn't recognize at all.

One of them was an old acquaintance, a street punk with questionable ethics. He was trying on a brand-new pair of yellow work boots. They fit him perfectly. The problem was they were actually mine.

I had never worn them; in fact, I didn't intend to wear them. They had been a gift from somebody, and I wasn't particularly fond of them. But they were mine, dammit!

So when he seemed intent on just walking away with them, I told him that they were girl's boots, and immediately, that killed his interest in them. He took them off and put them back in the box.

I knew that they were there to burglarize, but I didn't want to act like I knew, because I thought they might change from acting friendly to being threatening. For his part, the Street Punk was pretending he had just dropped in. He waved good-bye and sauntered out of the house.

I was shaken up by the experience and was going to call Mom to let her know what had happened. Some other friends came in, who were also visiting. I walked into the dining room to see if anything else had been taken. There, I found a guy trying to hide on the piano bench. He was lying across it, covered up with a blanket or something. I figured he was an accomplice of the Street Punk Burglar.

One of my friends discovered a guy hiding in the fireplace. They wouldn't have found him, except that he'd cut himself while trying to jam himself up there, and so he was bleeding. They saw the drops of blood, falling.

We made a citizen's arrest. By then, Mom had returned, and she called 911. I felt a little sorry for these would-be burglars, because I knew they were just accomplices, following the Street Punk. I told them they should tell the police the truth, that they weren't the leaders of the operation.

The police were too busy to do anything, so it was up to us to get these intruders to the police station. We put them in orange jumpsuits so they would look like convicts, in case they tried to escape. However, we had no handcuffs or weapons of any kind.

For some reason, my friends weren't helping me to take the thieves to the police station, so it was just me, with nothing but the force of my will to keep them in line. One of them was being very cooperative. He was an older man, and he'd never done anything wrong before. The other guy was younger. He escaped once, and I managed to capture him. I chided him like a bad dog.

The second time, he blended into a crowd, and I just threw my hands up in despair at the system.


The Gryphon also told me about a dream he had about the same time. We had a small elephant as a pet, named Makuth, which is actually the name of one of the lower order angels, according to the Kabbala. Makuth was very playful, like a puppy, and he had a patch in the back yard where he was allowed to play. It was covered in wood chips.

Makuth had a bad habit of butting people playfully, and since he weighed a lot, he could knock them over. So we tried to keep him from doing that.

Una wasn't a dog; she was a small child (which she often is in my dreams, too). She chased our cat and scared him, so The Gryphon soothed him. He was a small cat named Larry who had wiry fur and was very fuzzy. I guess he was the dream equivalent of Luke.


As I've mentioned previously, my Mom is looking for homes for some cats she's been feeding and providing with medical care, since she can no longer keep all of them.

I've offered to post their pictures, with a little description of each one, in hopes that someone who reads this can give them a home. If you know anyone who might be interested, please let me know.

    Shadow (Click to enlarge)

Name: Shadow
Age: 2 years
Neutered with all shots

Shadow is nice and very loving. He's a little shy, hence his name, but he warms up to people fairly quickly.

 

Moral:
You need more than a jump suit to corral prisoners.

Copyright 2008 by Alyce Wilson

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