Last night, I slept uneasy. My mind seemed to be regurgitating bad dreams. Full of this dread, I woke up at six in the morning to go to the gym. The lift in my building isn’t working, so I walked down.
From the last landing, I saw a pile of bricks. But I got this flash that I was looking at a heap of severed cat heads. But the heads didn’t look grotesque – they looked as if there were still alive, and the eyes were bright.
It freaked me out completely so I dashed down with my eyes shut. It’s a wonder I didn’t tumble down the stairs. But I ran out of the building, trying to get that image out of my head. Slowly, after I’d walked a few blocks I calmed down. The sharp cold breeze shaking unruly flowerbeds here and there, a couple of old men wearing mufflers and walking by, bird taking a strong twig for its nest - that sort of thing.
And next to an electric pole, I saw the stiff body of a cat…without a head.
If this is life’s way of telling me something, I wish it would shut up already.