I often dream in stories; and sometimes those dreams stay with me. I found that MSG triggers very vivid dreams. Last night, I had a doozy.
I was living at “home” – my sister and my mother were there – both upstairs – so I’m thinking this was the Midland Street house – although parts of it did not match the layout of the actual house.
Anyhow, someone rang the doorbell. I went to the front door and looked through the peephole (something our house did not have) and a young man (maybe in his 20s) was standing there. I opened the door slightly and he shoved the door open and walked right past me. I followed him, saying repeatedly, “Excuse me” and “Can I help you” and finally, “WTF do you think you’re doing?”
The man was dark-haired, Caucasian, tall and thin (but not frail). He had a smug smile. (He reminded me of that kid who claimed he has a resting bitch face when he was photographed face-to-face with the native American in Washington DC – yeah that guy.)
I tried to grab him, but he easily pulled away from me. I could tell he was pretty strong, and I was starting to get worried. I tried yelling for my Mom, but my throat closed up and I could barely croak. The guy pulled out a silver baton and said something about breaking all the pretty things in the house. (Kind of strange, because the house I grew up in was pretty much devoid of knick-knackery. Something, I never really thought about before – but upon reflection, yeah, we simply did not have a lot of knick-knacks (in fact, I can’t think of any).)
At this point, I somehow wrestled him to the ground.
He was still being very smug and condescending; telling me that I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, much less hurt him.
And that’s when I decided, and told him, “Oh yeah? Then I’m going to sit on you.”
He was still very smug and condescending, and I did, indeed sit on him. That, at least, immobilized him. I still couldn’t call out loud enough to get someone to call the police though.
Since he was still being smug and condescending, I bounced on him.
That got his attention. I continued to bounce on him until he was begging me to stop. He even threw up. I told him he shouldn’t do that because the smell would make me throw up and I would have no choice but to throw up on him. (I didn’t throw up – in fact, as in reality, I couldn’t smell anything.)
And that’s when he turned into a cat.
Yes. I squeezed and bounced on him until I turned him into a cat.
He was an all black cat – to start with. Of course, I got off him, but I kept a hold of him, and little by little, his fur got lighter and lighter – going from black, to seal point Siamese, and finally all white – including his eyes (he was at that point blind).
My sister and Mom came downstairs and I explained what had happened. They found nothing unusual about me turning an intruder into a cat by sitting on him.
As a cat, the guy was very nice. He followed me around, wanting to be picked up.
Finally, I was sitting on a bench seat with the cat next to me, and suddenly, he turned back into the guy – only a lot less smug and condescending.
I asked him if he had learned a lesson, and after some thought, he said (a bit sadly), probably not; but he now knew better than to mess with me.
And then I woke up.
I need to look at the box for the Tokyo Ramen we had for dinner last night and see if there was any MSG in that stuff.