fine whine

I miss my dreams, in both manners of speaking. Due to my alarm, I don't generally remember them in the morning, and that makes me sad and wistful for the days of yore when I could awaken gradually and dreamily and happily.

I'm not sure which days those were, of yore, but I recall having more dreams at some point in my life. Come to think of it, you could probably replace "dream" with "ambition" and not lose too much meaning in those last couple sentences. Spooky.

This morning, though, I have some recall of my dreams. There were three of them, and I can see no connection between them other than I was me in all of them, and me of the present. Here I shall present them in reverse order:

• I sat bolt upright in bed and looked at my watch (I sleep with a watch on and have for years, since I cannot trust my clocks for accuracy) and though it said 7:20am I could distinctly hear an alarm sounding. This struck me as odd, since my alarm is set for sometime after 8am and hitting random buttons (as I often do in the morning) would make the alarm later, not earlier. That probably wasn't what I was thinking at the time, though I sat there for what seemed like ten minutes before getting up and turning off the alarm in the other room (I don't trust myself to have the alarm in the same room. Paranoid me).
• The middle dream found me spending time with a family with small children and several housecats. As usual, the beginning of this segment is clouded in the all-too-familiar fuzzy recollection, but I do remember it bearing an odd resemblance to the walk to the lighthouse in John Carpenter's Fog, with the long path and the chain link fence. Anyway, as we were approaching their house I had a weird vision or premonition or hallucination of one of their cats dying and then, through some weird time-lapse, becoming undead, twitching and all-evil-ish. At the time it struck me as a nod to Stephen King, and when we got to the house we were concerned about this "tainted"* cat tainting the other pets. For some reason we needed to climb in via the windows (the small children and I).
• The first (and least remembered) dream I had this morning concerned me somehow returning to Italy. By bus. I got grabbed into a conversation with a couple cute girls (even in my dreams I eavesdrop, apparently) and we had something of a good time on the trip. I'm pretty sure I was worried about what my wife would think of all of this, but before I could do much about it the cats thing started up.

None of these is all that remarkable, other than the fact that most other mornings lately I don't even get this much to remember.

* I should point out that this was probably a direct rip (in everything but name) from 28 days later... which I watched not two days ago. Screw Steven King. I don't think he's ever tackled the undead in quite this fashion.