It’s the one thing my wife hates about sleeping with me. I have to leave it on otherwise my night is filled with dreams that range from confusing to downright disturbing. The other night we slept upstairs because our lazy asses refused to clean the litter box rendering the basement (where our bedroom is) to smell like ammonia and feces. One bed upstairs has a TV, the other none. Needless to say she picked the one without.
That night had the most heart touching dream… Was at a little old lady’s house. Had never met or seen her before. She was withered and wrinkled wearing a red battered robe and using a walker. Was there to have tea with her. We sat down, discussed the latest going ons in the news. Apparently there was a chipmunk shortage in Ohio and this made her quite furious. We went back and forth for a few talking of how this would affect the water supply in New Jersey when a young man looking to be in his mid 30’s walked in. He said one line “Mom sorry I’m home late”. She proceeded to get up, ran to a small bedroom without her walker and with a grace that only could be explained by this being a dream, and grabbed what would say was her 5-6 year old grandson out of bed. She then beat her son to death using the small child. Holding on to his legs and bashing him repeatedly with the torso, head, and arms. This went on for a good 3-5 minutes. Somehow the child survived the incident without a scratch. She then sat down and we discussed the coming of fire season in Vermont. Woke up mid conversation with her to the alarm.
After telling my wife of this dream, for some reason now we’re sleeping on the bed with the TV upstairs. Of course the litter box still has not been cleaned… We’re bad cat parents at times.