A year ago I started taking Ambien in an effort to kick my lingering insomnia out the door. I’d tried all the over-the-counter meds and followed all the advice on getting a good night’s rest. Nothing worked. But Ambien works, as long as you don’t mind memory loss and CRAZY dreams.
Take last night, for instance. I suspect my dream was piggy-backing off a conversation the boys and I had earlier about Salem being depressed. (Don’t laugh. We’re totally concerned.) Since moving to the new house two months ago, Salem hasn’t brought us a single offering. He had been so faithful to leave us little tokens of love on the porch about once a week, at the very least. But since we moved? Nothing. He doesn’t even try anymore, or so we assume. When Salem goes outside, he does his private business and then finds a spot to nap. This isn’t normal.
Anyway, last night I dreamt that Salem went on a killing spree. First it was a pack of squirrels, and then it was a fox, which Salem ripped to shreds. Then he attacked a family of rabbits and I chased him all over the yard to get him to stop from eating the babies. Finally, he started after a fully grown man in an owl costume… Salem was vicious, clawing and biting some six-foot-tall fella covered in feathers, mechanical wings and makeup. He wailed in agony as his face was scratched to pieces, chunks of flesh spraying everywhere. The man-owl cried for mercy. I tried tirelessly to keep my 17-pound baby panther from slaying the man-owl dead.
When the dream reached its finale, Salem was covered in blood and I had a pile of dead animals to bury. I don’t know what happened to the man-owl, as he had disappeared. Then Salem calmly licked his fur clean and crawled into my bed to take a nap.
When I woke up this morning, Salem was sitting two inches away from my face in his Wake-Up-And-Feed-Me position. He was purring and staring intently at me with his yellow-green eyes. We exchanged a brief glance before I got right up and fed the beast.