So I am officially over the flu.
And I never ever want to feel like that again.
Last night was the last of it and boy did it ever come through in my dream.
I am now convinced I should be seeing a therapist.
Here is why:
My dream started off normal enough.
My family had bought a new house way out deep in the woods.
It was a rickety old thing.
Basement. Main level. And upstairs.
There was a tiny window for the attic which I had noticed but was not important in the over all scheme of things.
The basement however, is where it all began.
Soon after we moved in, we began hearing these weird growling/meowing sounds.
It sounded like a cat….but an evil cat-like in Steven King’s short story The Cat From Hell (if you have not read this, I suggest you do. It’s only 500 words and brilliantly written. I still think about it and read it over three years ago.)
So my sister went down first to investigate and in my dream I could see what she was seeing through her eyes.
In the basement there was this old bed with a cast iron frame that had a patchwork quilt on it with blue pillows.
Underneath this bed was a trunk.
In this latched trunk was a black demon cat thing.
It was having babies.
Now when my sister unlocked this chest, the momma cat grew three more heads and starting growling in this weird foreign language that faintly resembled Emily from the Exorcism of Emily Rose.
Then the babies began squirming and bursting out of their birthing sacs to turn their heads and emit this black smoke that immediately killed all of us.
Because we were killed by a cat, we were given 9 chances to defeat it.
So we came back from the dead to try to kill the son of a bitch cat.
The next attempt was made by my brother who thought it would be a good idea to grab his shotgun and shoot it to smithereens.
I had a very very bad feeling about this and was begging him not to go down there (cause really who wanted to go face this gross growling demon cat thing in a basement?)
Opened the chest and the cat was even more hideous than before. It had grown more heads and was drooling and had a few extra sets of eyes.
And the cat got pissed.
This time we all died by it crawling out of the chest and swallowing each one of us whole.
Well we came back to life again and it was my turn.
I was crying and sniveling all the way down the stairs to the bedroom and as I passed the laundry room, I wasn’t afraid anymore.
I was pissed.
This mother f*ing cat kept killing my family!
So I stuck up my middle finger and said, “Fuck You.”
And as I said that, my mom (who was on the stairs with me) caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye and told me to say it again.
So I repeated myself.
There forming in the back of the basement was everyone in high school who had bullied my little self.
So I kept saying it until the basement was plump full of these shit heads.
Then…it was my turn.
I knew if I defeated these dipshits, the cat would be defeated as well.
Now I don’t know how many of you have seen Samurai movies where the main actor just slices through everyone with his sword doing dips and twirls and awesome things like that…yep that was me.
Except instead of swords…
I was using my fists.
Yep I punched my way through the crowd.
Knocking people in the jaw, the stomach, the gonads…
Where-ever I could land one to make them disappear.
I finally made it to the last few and the very last guy had the face of the demon cat.
I took out my claws for that one and punched and scratched him to pieces.
I went to the bedroom…
Flicked the latch open….
And started to creak open the chest…
When BEEP BEEP BEEP sounded.
My stupid evil alarm woke me up.
And now I will never know if I successfully defeated the evil cat thing.