Circus Cats and Violent Delegates

I dream that I’m looking into colleges for when I finish high school. At the same time I’m also my current adult self, so I end up choosing a psychology degree, because it’ll help with my retail job, somehow?? I guess customers do be crazy.

At the same time I’m looking into buying a car, I select an old gray Citroën, extremely boring but it somehow only costs 400 bucks. I can’t even drive but that’s not gonna stop me! I lie in the back seat and smile and smile.

I go home and I find a dozen cats, most of them black. My own cat is conspicuously missing. All the cats are wearing circus clothes. I go fill the bathtub (it’s plastic, transparent blue), they all follow me and jump in the water. I start brushing them with soap and they all look very satisfied, like they’ve been trained for this. There is a white cat with a bleeding injury on her shoulder, and a gray tabby with his legs missing. There also a talking toy astronaut.

Afterward I’m walking home from school and decide to visit the local catholic church. I haven’t been inside the building in years and I don’t like religious institutions on principle, but here I go, and the church is packed so I have to sit on the marble steps.

A bearded man stood up and is now giving a speech a few seats from me. Another guy (I recognize him, it’s a local politician) attacks him, a fist fight ensues. I’m enjoying this more than I can say, these religious types and their hypocrisy! The politician notices I’m chuckling ant attacks me too, scratches my face. I say I’m just an innocent schoolgirl! I’m not though, I’m in my 30s, there’s blood pouring down my face and I’m still laughing.

Lost Priest and Lost Pants

I’m sitting in a Catholic church somewhere in an unknown city, quietly drawing a statue on my sketchbook. An altar boy comes in and I realize Mass is about to start and it’s time for me to go.

He’s followed by a person straight out of my childhood: Father A. from the neighborhood church. He has clearly aged, he’s oblivious to the people around him and he’s rambling, crying, asking God what was the point of moving to this big, ridiculous stadium of a church.

I don’t know if he even remembers me but I still shout:

“Forgive my bluntness, but JESUS CHRIST, Father, why don’t you go see a psychologist?!

He blinks, looks at me quite shocked. “What?”, he asks faintly.

“A PSYCHOLOGIST, Father!!!”

(Photo by Joshua Eckstein on Unsplash)

I go back home and I’m about to climb the stairs to my apartment when I realize I’m not wearing any pants, under the coat my legs are bare against the winter cold. Did I forget them, do I have to go back all the way to the church?

I close my eyes and try to visualize my pants: maybe if I concentrate hard enough I can trick myself into teleporting back. It doesn’t work. I’m about to leave again when I realize with relief I’m carrying the pants on my arm, along with my red scarf.