The World Dream Bank: Dog Bites Cat, or, Bush League

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Dog Bites Cat
or
Bush League

Dreamed 2015/2/17 by Chris Wayan

THAT DAY

My sister visits convalescent me. "I had a sexy time
at Panthea Con!" It's a fair for polyamorists.
Trios, orgies? Wow. While I face mobs of dentists,
doctors. Health so fragile I can't date, while she
explores the sex frontier! I'm jealous of her wild
Music. Improvise harmonies to her songs, down low.
Then she serenades me on guitar, as I hand-sew
my huge Mertiger--fur striped, fluke-tailed. She goes.
I repaint my sculpture of Io, Jupiter's wildest moon.
Oops! A cartographic slip--gotta recarve one bit.
Science, dreams--both need me fair and accurate.
Switch to poetry--polish The Geyser of Good. And then
illustrate The Pegasus Child, (rambunctious dream of wing).
Love to paint, but I overworked--a little sick again.

THAT NIGHT...

A Lanky Man two meters tall. He hands
me a leather Leash. Gutteral, commands
"Walk my Mutt to Burlingame." 20 miles! Yet I
meekly take this unpaid quest from Bony Guy.
Hours, miles later, my Dogs hurt. Sick of the hike,
and this loud reckless Terrier chasing every Bike,
car, kid, dog & cat in sight. Deaf to command,
for I'm no Master, just his God's unhired Hand.
At last he catches and bites a Cat. Deep cuts--
the poor cat bleeds from Flank and Gut
till fur mats, a red-glint Morass of Felt.
"BAD dog!" I roar, (un)covering my Guilt.
He whines "I didn't do it!" What? He can TALK?
The smartest Dog in the World! But, and, but
the Stupidest smartest dog in the world. I shout
"Liar! I saw. Your Teeth, her Blood."
"That's not blood!" says the Dog. Red drip.
Jeez. What a comrade on this Dismal Trip!
Since even a Mistrained Dog understood
English, I apologize to the poor Gnawed Cat--
"I'm so sorry. He's a bad, BAD dog.
Don't hide. Go home and get your Pet
humans to clean and bandage that--
it's near the gut. Rest, take care--you'll live."
The Silent Cat limps off. I pray she'll Forgive
my Lapse: on duty, I saw mere Bark and Bluff
when he sought Blood. To bind the Demon Mutt
I carry him blocks. But miles to go--I cannot Lug
him Miles--joints ache. So tired of being Sick!
As I tramp, my Memory gropes for his Name,
this stupid, vicious, Lying little Dog. Chet?
Jeb? Charlie, Jimmy, Jamie? Closer, but...
Dog bloodily bites a cat; I yell 'BAD dog!' Sketch of a dream by Wayan.
Chay not Jay. Oh, yeah, that was it:
Cheney. Well, that explains a Lot.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

Twenty-mile hike: overwork. Each step in my day felt good, but en masse, too much. Slowing my recovery.
Babysit an impulsive talking critter: I dreamed I babysat a Pegasus Child--willful, but not mean.
Suburbs, skinny dishonest guy with a dog called Ch---:
1. Years ago, in the suburbs, this skinny sneaky guy (with a dog called Ch----) borrowed my car over & over till he broke it. I couldn't tell him no! Recently I learned he later groped an underage girl. A total stranger. In a 7-11. On camera. "I didn't do it!" said the dog.
2. Today I read a story about a suburban uncle who coaxed his underage niece to fuck his dog while he watched. That story must have reminded me I once knew a similar guy.
But my "friend"s dog wasn't vicious--the dream added that ugly element, hinting that this guy's even worse than my "friend". Who is he?
Cheney: presumably George W. Bush's vice president Dick Cheney, who ensured no one would assassinate Dubya because Cheney'd be even worse. 'Jeb' clinches the hint: it's about the Bushes. A dynasty that won't dy is just nasty!
If the dog's Dick Cheney, his master has to be Bush. And I did Bush's bidding--without question! What schemes am I abetting here?
I grumble but carry this awful dog: I blame my sore joints when my weak will's to blame. I let him use me. Can't I say no? Am I staying ill to limit how much I get used?
Cat: pun on "pussy"? My sister's tales of her sex adventures among the polyamorists!
The Mutt of Getting Used hurts the Pussy of Sex: until I can freely reject others' demands, sexual involvement will lead to my getting hurt!
ACTION 1: The moment I notice I'm tired, REST. I prolong my illness by overwork.
ACTION 2: Learn to say no. Hard for me; I do favors I shouldn't. But it endangers love, sex, and probably even friendship.
ACTION 3: Chase all the pussy you like--but don't bite! And be honest. The Bushes proved America loves a liar... but don't sink to Bush league.

LISTS AND LINKS: animal people - dogs - Baby Hitler's Dog - violence - cats - blood - teeth - truth & lies - dream humor - puns - politicians - suburbs - giving, duty, obligation & responsibility - guilt - assertion & self-defense - workaholism - babysitting a Pegasus Child - nightmares of the Bush regime - Birdman Teaches "NO!"

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	A Lanky Man two meters tall. He hands me a leather Leash. Gutteral, commands "Walk my Mutt to Burlingame." 20 miles! Yet I meekly take this unpaid quest from Bony Guy. Hours, miles later, my Dogs hurt. Sick of the hike, and this loud reckless Terrier chasing every Bike, car, kid, dog & cat in sight. Deaf to command, for I'm no Master, just his God's unhired Hand. At last he catches and bites a Cat. Deep cuts-- the poor cat bleeds from Flank and Gut till fur mats, a red-glint Morass of Felt. "BAD dog!" I roar, (un)covering my Guilt. He whines "I didn't do it!" What? He can TALK? The smartest Dog in the World! But, and, but the Stupidest smartest dog in the world. I shout "Liar! I saw. Your Teeth, her Blood."	"That's not blood!" says the Dog. Red drip. Jeez. What a comrade on this Dismal Trip! Since even a Mistrained Dog understood English, I apologize to the poor Gnawed Cat-- "I'm so sorry. He's a bad, BAD dog. Don't hide. Go home and get your Pet humans to clean and bandage that-- it's near the gut. Rest, take care--you'll live." The Silent Cat limps off. I pray she'll Forgive my Lapse: on duty, I saw mere Bark and Bluff when he sought Blood. To bind the Demon Mutt I carry him blocks. But miles to go--I cannot Lug him Miles--joints ache. So tired of being Sick! As I tramp, my Memory gropes for his Name, this stupid, vicious, Lying little Dog. Chet? Jeb? Charlie, Jimmy, Jamie? Closer, but...

Chay not Jay. Oh, yeah, that was it: Cheney. Well, that explains a Lot.