I'm back in the yard of the home where I was a teen, in a suburb of San Francisco. But it's changed--the yard's full of boulders and trees I don't recall, and Polhemus Canyon drops off to the southwest, not the east.

But then, I'm strange too. I feel lean and light; my legs are very long, with spotted fur. Cheetah legs! Pads and claws giving me catlike climbing power. My hands have short fur with small rosettes--and claws. My long tail whips nervously.

I climb to the roof and look around. No one watching. Leap to the tallest tree on the lot. I'm seeking a rainproof crack or hole, up here where humans don't habitually look and can't readily reach. I want to stash some cash and credit cards, just in case Trump's goons show up to take me away for telling my dreams. My dreams don't like the Donald.

But I feel indecisive. Oh! suddenly I realize why. I've been sticking around, not moving to Canada or Europe or New Zealand like some of my friends, because some girls in the neighborhood are feline like me. There just aren't many of our kind in the world; clusters like in our neighborhood are rare... and I want a catgirl as a mate.

Yet I'm not taking action--I never ask any of them out. I just hover and long.

Up a tree. Neither here nor gone.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

On the other paw, I have a partial excuse. After five years of successfully avoiding Covid, ten weeks ago I caught it. I lost my whole summer--tired, droopy, still sleeping poorly. You'll notice how sparse my dream art is through June & July. Now in late August I'm just starting to feel like me.

Beside warning me to choose--stay or go, date or don't--does the dream hold other advice? It won't be obvious to the casual reader, but yes. For decades, whenever I get run down and need reminding that I do best in short bursts of exertion, with lots of stretching and rest between... I dream I'm a cheetah. Why? Well, it's true. I'm fast and smart--in short sprints. But not marathons. I need lots of rest.

I need to be reminded now. Choosing, taking action--those are for the well! And I'm not--not yet.

You can't fast-talk your body. Rest up and pace yourself.

Until I face that I'm a cheetah, and act like one--work in short bursts only--I'll be stuck. Up the tree of indecision. Which is really... exhaustion.

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