Death, without decay

I keep having a recurring dream. It is about a cat, my cat, that's dying. Last night, in the dream, the other cats turned on him. I had to pull them off. They were going to kill. It was distressing in a way that is difficult to convey in waking words. The cats seem possessed with demonic energy to do my dream cat in. They were making their guttural threats, circling in intent.

It's not as if I'm not already going through enough in my active hours, now my subconscious is turning on me. I awoke restless, in a deeply troubled state.  The image of the frightened cat is etched within me. The mind is its own dark conjurer and sorcerer of self.

There have been too many endings in my life, of late. I must improve the nature of my dreams. Somehow, soon.

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