Today's entry was to have been about getting (and keeping, mis-stepping and now needing to regain) Cinnamon's sleeping through the night schedule for in the last couple of days she's back to rousing at 3:30 AM for walking, feeding. . . . aaarraggghh.
But, that will have to wait for another day, for on this day, there is a dream to relate.
We're up at 3:30 AM. We walked. She ate. I drank the coffee the actor had brewed, up early to prepare for his coaching gig and an audition. We talked (the actor and I) about a great number of things while Cinnamon harassed the orange cat and ripped apart a carton (when she couldn't get at the cat).
A couple or so hours later the actor had to shower and dress for his day. After he left I went back to bed, to re-boot my Saturday morning. Sometime after I dropped back off to slumber-land, a dream crept up beside me.
As you know, of maybe YOU don't, but some do--I don't remember dreams, or at least not the full scope of them. Just snippets. Slices.
This dream starred Kobe (as in Bryant, as in, ick, I can't stand him). He was the waiter and I the diner. I was having a dinner or it could have been a series of dinners with someone whose identity was never revealed. Kobe kept bringing me dishes I didn't seem to be ordering. First, fish. Then, linguine. Then, some kind of sandwich. And then . . well, it went on and on.
With the delivery of each dish Kobe would moan and groan. He had some whiny commentary about my eating and he and his team losing. There appeared to be a correlation. The final dish (that I remember) him plopping down in front of me was an extremely large mound of french fries and a saucer full of fried pickle slices. The End (of the dream).
And then, screaming bladder.
I know why the food, as the last of the great many things the actor and I discussed before my morning nap was diners and the virtues (and / or risks) of high, middle, and lower end dining establishments and experiences. I don't know why the specific food items except for the fried pickle slices. Their appearance is undoubtedly the result of my first former girlfriend being heavy on my mind in recent weeks.
Kobe's whiny ass? What? Why? And Stop!
And now, onward to a re-booted Saturday AM. Cinnamon and I have been outside again. Soon she will get a bath where I will attempt to clip more hair from around her face so it is in better alignment with her body, the litter boxes will get cleaned, and . . . well, a number of other chores before going out tonight.
But first, breakfast.