Strange Dreams

Last night I had a really fine example of a strange dream.

We were by the ocean in a beat-up hotel - like maybe a hurricane hit it, but it decided to stay open. At the beach the tide would go way way out and come back in over a shallow surface, and some of us *natives* were explaining to some visiting New Yorkers that it could knock you off your feet so be ready for it. But don't be scared, it was otherwise harmless.

In this dream I was a cigarette smoker, there in the shabby hotel room. Electricity was only on in parts of the building and some of the doors didn't work. In one dark and mildewy hall was a table with some cheap sticky pastries someone had donated.

My room was supposedly a non-smoking room but I knew no one would bother me about it so I smoked in there. The only other people near me were down an outside hall, like a balcony but sort of enclosed. They were Polish, and were practicing some sort of blues improv music but were totally dissatisfied with themselves, and argued in strongly accented English about it.

I had visitors; Walter and my mom at different times came by.

My ancient cat was with me. He's never been much for traditional cat activities and he's pretty useless as a mouser. Unless his mama really, really needs his services.

Which, in this dream, in that grungy hotel, I did. He was a very good boy and caught two rats in my room. For which I praised him to the heavens when I woke up this morning.