Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Baby Dreams and Attack Cats...
...hmmm...that was mine and D's night the other night. I totally forgot to post about it cuz I had other stuff to say but this is too funny not to share.
I am a freak.
As Daryl can vouch, I often wake up in the middle of the night screaming, yelling, talking or trying to do "something" (i.e. kill spiders, find a key, etc. depending on that particular dream). I've often so rudely (although unintentionally of course) woken Big D up from a peaceful slumber, scaring the utter shit out of him, many a night.
One night early in our relationship, when Big D was sleeping over, I was talking in my sleep. He woke up to hear me say, "I have to tell him! I have to!" The next morning, uber-casual, I remember Big D saying to me, "So, is there something you want to tell me?" LOL Then another time I woke up screaming about the spiders, Daryl please, please, the spiders! I not only scared the hell out of Big D but even though I was by then wide awake, I made him look around for spiders.
Our most recent twilight escapade, involved me sitting upright in bed, scrabbling and reaching wildly, crying out, "The baby! The baby! The baby!" I came to, hearing this voice screaming frantically about a baby (and not at first realizing it was me), and realizing that Daryl's arm was around me, he was rocking me and soothingly saying, "It's okay. Relax, relax. April, it's okay. There is no baby."
"No, you don't understand, the baby!" I said, feeling anxious cuz I could not convey it to him and feeling as if we'd "forgotten" something very important, left the baby somewhere and gone about our daily business. It was like my heart dropped out of my body.
Oh. But, what? We don't have a baby?
A sense of relief settled over me like a downy blanket. Not becuz I realized we didn't have a baby, but becuz we didn't leave a baby somewhere. Relief. (Mind you, this whole scenario happened in a matter of seconds.)
My relief was short-lived though as a blur of gray fur and claws came at me from the foot of the bed, hissing and spitting. It was Molly, my docile, non-confrontational, lover of a little kitty. The only time I'd ever heard Molly hiss or growl at me was once, right after I got her fixed, when she was still drugged up and afraid I was going to touch her. This was my petite little munchkin who loves to sleep by my side every single night, who runs out happily to greet me when I come home from a long day of work, like a dog. My sweet little kitty who cuddles up to me on a rainy day curled up in a blanket on the couch, or who I lovingly feed little pieces of turkey too when I make mine and D's sandwiches. The friendliest (albeit skittish) kitty in our house, who everyone knows of as that "cute little gray cat". That is my Molly.
Still groggy with sleep, I shouted, "Daryl! Daryl! Get her away from me! She's attacking me!" He flipped the blanket up--like we used to in elementary school with those kick-ass parachutes...remember those??--and little gray Molly was suddenly airborne, a cat-bird in flight.
Problem solved. Or so we thought, as Daryl rubbed my back.
Out of the darkness at my side, like the childhood monster from under the bed, lunged a gray devil with shiny green orbs for eyes. I shrieked again cuz it was the freakiest thing ever to see in the middle of the night, when you're still bleary with sleep and already frightened from a bad dream. Molly managed to get in one good swipe with her little paw. I tried to cower under the blankets and Big D, my knight in shining boxers, made this loud hissing noise like a big burly feline and finally, finally good god that devil cat (my sweet little Molly) retreated.
We laughed for a good ten minutes. In the middle of the night.
I guess I have a busy nightlight...I misplace my dream-babies (what a bad Mommy!) and get attacked by my normally angelic-cat.
Seriously, this is my life.