This dream occurred, on Friday, May 1, 1998, whilst I then lived in Montréal. The Moon was in Cancer thereby transiting my second house. It was sheer joy to have encountered Merlin’s playful spirit which was fully engaged as the trickster – the exalted dream shaman.
Once inside the house, I laid low for awhile and then got up to explore. I do know that Pandora da Braga was on an upper level of the dwelling.
A little boy was outside in a stroller. Above all else, there was no way of getting around one fact… this was a supremely intelligent child. White, his hair was sandy-blond.
Naturally, he was regimented into a blue jumpsuit denoting his sex. His legs were fat and there was, of course, the bulkiness of his being diapered.
The back of this boy’s knees were dimpled, fat and very cherubic a body was his. His stroller sat on a paved walkway.
Two or three steps from the house’s landing led to the yard. His back was turned to the yard’s six-foot-high, wooden fence of pale wood that was treated to be weather resistant.
As it had some traces of cyanide in it, the wood had an off-green hue to it. Seated there, his left profile was closer to the house as I looked outside at him.
Whilst I absently worked at something, he inquisitively looked in at me. I held up the bottled water that I had been drinking, extending it out the window, as if to offer him a drink.
He was keenly adept at the art of telepathy but feigned ignorance – as well he ought to have, as someone might have had him dismissed for mad. Goodness knows, it would only take one superstitious adult to then have this young child declared demon-possessed because of his gifts.
Whoever he is, it was quite good to have connected with this august-souled young man. Cocking me a look, he sized me up letting me know that he knew that I was playing games with him that he was not ignorant of.
I was floored by his candour. He was a real cheeky devil who soon managed his way out of his stroller’s harness. Since he was much too young to be walking, knowing that this was the dreamtime, he did the logical thing.
He shapeshifted and suddenly became a cat. Thus, he magically acquired the stealth and agility which his paucity of human age and physical growth denied him. I was blown away for not even I would have thought of such a magus move.
Once transformed, he became a large white cat which came up and quietly snuck into the house. This was the sort of move that could readily have tricked and unhinged a lesser mortal, in this situation, but I was aware that it was him all along.
Turning around, only briefly, I had lost sight of him but caught his drifting tail as he sneaked around a corner. I was not, indeed, going to be hoodwinked.
Roaring aloud, thrilled by the child’s brilliant display of both wit and magus energy, I went chasing after the cat. Like the child that it represented, the cat bolted rushing through the house by going downstairs.
Eventually, it settled on a pile of crates. The crates were off in a far, darkened corner of the basement. Though a large, multiple-roomed house, the basement was not partitioned. It was simply a large open space.
In the form of the water heater, heat and air conditioning systems, the usual signs of normalcy were present. Nothing here could have proven a fire hazard.
Through which the cat could come and go as he pleased, the crates comfortably sat just beneath a tiny basement window. The window proved, in fact, an air duct which was shared with another of the house’s many rooms.
Clever though he was, I was not fooled by his cheeky little act. A large white tom, it had a fat rump on it. A pure snow-white cat it was. Addressing it as the precocious boy that I knew it to be, I called out to the tom.
I told him to be careful, being so high up on those crates, to not hurt himself. To my surprise, he cockily shot back, sounding every bit like Merlin when speaking in his duxypuss voice,
“Oh come on, I’m a puss!”
I roared, blown away by the playfulness. In one sure leap, it leapt through the opening and headed upstairs. Just like that, he was out of sight. He had flashed the tail at me just before taking flight.
I was stunned by his wicked playfulness. This kid had me dismissed as a real pushover. Not missing a beat, I went running upstairs calling out to Pandora as I did.
I told Pandora to keep her eye on that cat – I did not want it to get away. When I came up, Pandora asked what cat I was talking about. There was no cat in the house, she was confident, nor was there one normally.
To my surprise, the little devil had shapeshifted again and returned to his original state by becoming a rather precocious human child. There he was holding the same bottled water that I had previously offered him.
He sat there, hungrily gulping down the water, all the while looking at me as though he had never laid eyes on me before. Indeed, quite the cheeky little imp. The sight of him only made me roar even more.
I couldn’t believe his brilliance. It was such refreshing magic.
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Photo: White domestic short-haired cat & Buster sporting Lion cut.
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Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul. 