Sunday, February 17, 2008

No image available...yet.

When I got home last night, I saw a four-legged critter disappearing into the walkway between my apartment's little courtyard and the alley on which I park. I turned my car to shine my headlamps in it's direction, since there aren't a lot of stray cats in my neighborhood, and he didn't look like LA's usual night-stalker - the possum. At first he looked like he had the body of a big, fluffy grey cat; until he raised his head just enough to show the mask he wore over his eyes: a raccoon! I haven't seen one in years and never in the city like this. By the time I parked my car and walked through the little walkway, he was invisible in the courtyard's shadows, though he apparently lingered in my mind long enough for my subconscious to create an interesting little narrative.

I dreamed last night that I was sitting on the ground in the middle of the walkway, my waist encircled by the arm of someone I haven't seen since the summer who now sat on my left, as was customary for us. On one side of the walkway in the alley, the raccoon rested on all fours, like how cats do when resting - my brother calls this the "loaf of bread" vs. the "cinnamon roll" for which cats are also known. Dozens of little birds scattered and hopped around him, their shadows were all cast long in the late afternoon sun.

On the other side of the walkway, in the courtyard which was still vividly lit (since the setting sun wasn't blocked by the apartment as it was in the alley) a coyote creeped past my former companion and I and into the contrasting, almost colorless alley where the raccoon and the birds quietly awaited dusk. At that moment, the birds took flight and the two animals battled it out - rolling into a two toned ball in slightly varying shades of grey.

And that's just how the dream ended. What do you think it means?

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