It's been a long time since I updated this, I haven't had any notable dreams that weren't tedious domestic dramas or train journeys fraught with anxiety. Last night's is worth mentioning as it had a recurring theme of small furry mammals with odd vocalisations. In the first part, I was in my sister's room, in my old Plymouth house from childhood, yes the haunted one. My sisters had a pet Squirrel Monkey, a tiny little thing, that came to perch on my shoulder and twitter strange words in my ear. It had learned how to speak in human language, much like a parrot, albeit a garbled, broken sort of lexis.
I had with me my book of mammals, a superb publication that features an illustration of every mammal species known to science. As one might imagine, most of this book is made up of rats and bats. I asked the monkey if it could tell me which species of squirrel monkey it was, as there are around 7 different types. I was flicking slowly through the primate section to build excitement when my mother walked in. I told her what we were doing, and she began turning the pages for me, but much too roughly for such an expensive book, treating it like a magazine. I didn't want to tell her off, so I was eager to quickly find the page on squirrel monkeys. I could not locate it and the monkey lost interest.
Later on, I was in a shopping mall with my family when we heard the most alarming growling. It sounded as though it might have came from a large dog, but it turned out to be an injured rat. The creature had been stepped on by the ground, and it was half bald, almost like it had escaped from a lab. I told everyone to stay away from it incase it was diseased. I wondered whether to help it when a big annoying man in white boots stomped into view and decided to manly take care of the matter. He raised a large knobbed stick and brought it down on the rat's head, putting an end to its suffering, and its threatening growls.
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