I seldom remember dreams. Even if I wake up with images from a dream lingering in my head, they've usually dissipated by the time I hit my first cup of coffee. More frequently, impressions or emotions will remain from a dream, but they are always disjointed and I can never attribute them to a specific cause.
Rarely (based on this diary, every three years or so) I remember a dream with some clarity. The dreams are always upsetting, and usually open to interpretation. The only thing dreams I recall seem to have in common is that I've done something wrong in them, something unforgiveable. I'm not sure what that says about me, and I'm uncomfortable enough about it that I probably don't want to know what that says about me.
The background isn't black-and-white, but more sepia toned. There are no overt signs of it, but it's a time of deprivation. There isn't enough food, isn't enough heat, isn't enough of anything.
I'm in my kitchen. The counter is white, the cutting board is dark grey, the meat on the cutting board is pink. There is a white enamel pot with black edging on the rim of the lid and handles on the stove. I open the pot, and inside are two kittens. One I don't recognize; it's a brown tabby with no discernable white on it. The other is Lyta, the Little Brown Shit. They are curled head to head, their backs against the inside of the pot. The unknown kitten is licking Lyta's face. I close the pot and turn on the burner.
I'm not aware that any time has elapsed. I open the pot and lift the unknown kitten out of it. It has become an unrecognizable piece of meat. I begin to trim it on the cutting board, adding the meat to what's already on the board. I lift Lyta out. She's still alive. She's hurt, damaged in some sort of way I can't recognize, but hurt all the same.
I put her down on the floor. She stands in profile, and I can see that the fur on her hind quarters and tail has been bleached out. The pattern of classic tabby remains, but the colors are diluted. She looks at me and yowls, and I feel literally sick. At that point, I woke up.
Unlike most previous dreams, I know without question what this dream means, even if I'm still dealing with the implications. The dream has cast a pallor on an otherwise beautiful fall day.