Cat Chase

Last night I took a beta blocker, a shot of Nyquil, and two Evening Primrose pills in hopes of stifling my anxiety enough to get a good night’s rest in order to beat a mid-August cold I seem to have caught. I was desperate and determined not to let my wheezing keep me up again.

 

I had wild dreams of the East Coast and of transforming into different ages and species.

 

It started when I headed into a New York café with Megan, I think. I slouched against the counter on a bar stool and complained of starvation. Megan pushed a half-eaten turkey sandwich my way, left over from the previous luncher. I nibbled on it and when the waitress came I interrogated her about what kind of bread was on the sandwich. After a great deal of molesting the already mangled sandwich, we both agreed it was a light Jewish rye and I ordered another just like it.

 

Then, Chris and I were two cats running all around the ins and outs of suburban treetops. There were no leaves in the branches, but it wasn’t winter because the weather was hot and there was a huge birthday party going on for a little kid in the backyard of one of the richest families in the neighborhood. Us two cats crashed the party by jumping on the cameraman and knocking down his camcorder, which, was actually an etch-a-sketch mounted on a cardboard frame. The mother of the birthday boy/girl was enraged and sent the police after us. We jumped so fast over a thousand fences, with my voice narrating the chase like this:

 

“We kept jumping fence after fence as if it were effortless but I wasn’t sure how long we could keep going before our hearts gave out.”

 

When the cops finally caught up to us, my cat body somehow stayed in place while my cat spirit morphed into a little girl, who pretended to be the owner of the two cats in question. She made up a million excuses then manifested the creation of two look-alike cats that came walking up, as stand-ins, at the perfect moment. The cops took the wrong cats and left Chris and I to continue wreaking havoc in the branches above. The rich mother watched us climb skeptically, recognizing our prowess among the trees. She knew we were the culprits but she had to way of proving her suspicion.

 

She went home with a pout on her face and the next thing I remember I was in a fast car headed to the city. The same city I’ve seen in other dreams. A city that is fast and packed together and colorless, yet somehow within the colorlessness you can make out the tiniest details that have been crammed together amongst each other. Driving into the city, in a fast car filled with other faceless people, I feel exhilarated. I peruse the fanciest dress stores, where shoppers themselves are wearing prom gowns, and then I’m on a rickety roller coaster and everything looks and feels like Coney Island. Dusty, muted colors everywhere. And some sort of flighty social scene going on around me, somebody wanting my signature or my approval. They are fat and laughing and insecure and I am distracted and overwhelmed by the setting around me. I am absorbing everything, I am not reacting.

© Jennifer Chaussee

 

*It is your responsibility to understand copyright law.