Early this morning. I was trying to enter a Wal-mart-type store with a large black cat – and I was in a wheelchair. This cat was Onyx, an all-black cat, one of the dearest animals I’ve ever had the pleasure of being owned by. (Onyx passed away a few years ago. I keep Onyx’s ashes in a box – along with Alobar, his all-white contemporary who has also passed on – near Klaus). I was told by a snotty young woman that Onyx wasn’t allowed into the store. So I left, and then apparently returned and wheeled right in because I found myself looking for the fitting room.
I was waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
I must have lost patience with waiting because I wandered outside of the store into a large, plain room full of people. They were all listening raptly to a woman speaking at the front. Was she a salesperson? A preacher? I have no idea. There was no interaction with me, I just sat in the back in my wheelchair with my cat.
And then I got up out of the chair and walked – stepped out of the wheelchair and walked – outside. It was an outdoor deck. I saw a man looking around, obviously looking for someone. I called out for Klaus – and it was him – and he came running over. He said, “I love you, I love you, I love you” as he held me tightly and then…
I was cruelly awakened by the alarm clock. So sad to watch everything disappear. But it was an absolutely fantastic dream, the very first in which Klaus was the leading man, and in which I heard his distinctive voice. I cried all through the morning walkie with Bogart, luckily early mornings on the weekends here in this part of town are relatively deserted, and add some rain into the mix, and lets say that no one found out my little secret that was written in trails of tears all over my face.
Ah, but the day must go on. Bogart and I are always intrigued by the falling of the leaves here in Portland…
Bogart obviously got “inspired”.
Then the sky opened and the rain began to pour. Bogart barely noticed.
I, however, do not have a semi-waterproof double coat. Only a single nylon-y one. And I look awfully silly doing the “aire dry” that Bogart does when his fuzz is soaked.
Lulu & Bogart