In a funeral home, playing around the legs holding up the casket, 3 of our former cats (passed). In comes my aunt (looking 20 years younger) and releases a grey tabby, perhaps a month old, to play with the white kitten (from 18 or 19 year ago). They race around the room. The grey kitten comes and cuddles to me while the 3 others ignore me, being one languid cluster in the shadow of the coffin. The white kitten bats at the tail. Valderbar plots something inside her cocked head.
Aunt offers to trade her kitten for mine. I hesitate, reality breaking thru dream cloud and knowing it would be an unethical trade since when I wake, those cats will still be dead but this kitten that wriggles to the tummy rub I give it and that licks my hand must be alive. I take the trade and tuck the kitten into my coat for the walk thru slush streets home.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago