I spoke once about how Loki dreams.  If we know rats run mazes in their dreams, is it any wonder that each of The Kids dreams in their own way?  Of course not.

Working furiously on another post, I heard from the cat castle the undeniably aggressive moaning of Kako.  It was the long, drawn-out meow that signals a very unpleasant disposition.  Every cat does it, and every cat has their own unmistakable take on this classic sign of displeasure.  Kako’s is no different.

I immediately looked up to see her tail madly twitching at one end of the feline furniture.  She was asleep in the tunnel running horizontally across the top.  If that tail was any indication, she was in a very bad mood.  So I went to take a look.

Standing atop the lower platform, I peeked into the tunnel and saw her in a coma-like state.  Her eyes were tiny slits of ocular attention blinded by the fog of visions.  Like her tail which was still quite active, her paws trembled in response to the running that only existed in her mind.  It was fascinating to watch.  Whether fleeing or chasing, she was on the move.  And she was not happy about it.

Her moans continued.  Was she threatened by something?  Being that close and listening intently to her voice, I recognized what she was saying.  What a gift that is, to know your children so well as to interpret correctly every nuance, every oscillation, every subtle difference in every single thing they do that only a parent would notice.

She was afraid.  And she was trying to escape.

I reached down and petted her.  At the same time, I said things like “Time to wake up” and “It’s okay” and various demonstrations of paternal concern.  She did not awaken, but she did fall silent.

I looked at her in full so that I might know her state.  Breathing in slow shallow depths, I knew she was fine, but she really wasn’t in a happy place.  And she was sleeping so deeply that practically talking into her ear and scratching her head failed to wake her.  In the meantime, she ran on.

That definitely signaled it was time to ensure her consciousness.

I reached down and cradled her head in my left hand, and then I reached down and slid my right hand behind her back.  Then I scratched her with the former and gently shook her with the latter.  All the while, I repeated the same aphorisms I’d offered before.

Her eyes snapped open and she immediately looked at me.  There was confusion first, the lifting of the haze that suspends over the mind just after waking.  Then came the focus, the snap of attention toward me.  And finally, the annoyance, the look that shouted “What the holy hell are you doing?  Are you so blind you couldn’t see I was sleeping?  And why do you have your dirty mits all over me?  Stop touching me, damn it!  Now what the flying fuck is your malfunction?”

I was glad to see she was okay.