Bingo!/Be Free, Little Fluff

Date: 9/2/2017

Background: My retainers are old and disgusting, but the ortho won't see me yet and I'm paranoid of being without them. Kitty passed away in May. Dream 1 The bizarre adventure began with both of my retainers breaking into pieces, so I walked to the orthodontist in hopes of getting new ones. I entered what appeared to be a long hallway to the waiting room, but the the door's nameplate appeared to be vandalized. Dr. Smith's name was scribbled out and had a wooden plank placed on top of the original plate; the new name started with an "A", but was unpronounceable. In the waiting room, a voice over the intercom told me that because of a [forgotten] medical condition, I had to be under intensive care for 24 hours. The waiting room wall to my right vanished and suddenly I'm on a gurney, dragged into an emergency room filled with elderly patients on life support; a lot of them babbled and gurgled at an irritating pace. With no nurses around, I suddenly had the urge to pull the plug on a few patients, ultimately playing "eenie-meenie-miney-moe" in my head. As one patient attempted to reach for the plug herself, I saw that as my cue to my escape. The emergency/waiting room suddenly changed scenery: instead of the waiting area being the orthodontist's, it transformed into the memory unit where I volunteer at; living room mostly in tact, but the walls resembled a hospital and the exit was now on the opposite side of the living room. Out of nowhere, I saw Terry, activity director [we'll call her] Dana, and a few other employees in their human form* walking around. "We're gonna play Bingo!" Terry exclaimed as I try to run down the long hallway again, searching for another exit. I kept hearing various conversations, but the hallway was empty; all the patients and coworkers were gone. *see: Ashlee's Trial More side notes: I have not been at my volunteer site this week. I fucking hate Bingo. Dream 2 I woke up in my grandmother's old house, laying on the floor mattress that I'm usually stuck with. Walking into the hallway, I noticed a woman talking to both my parents while I lingered at the top of the steps. Apparently Buddy, my cat, ran away and was found at a farm hanging out with a chestnut horse. She surrendered the little fluff into our care as he sprinted towards me, following my footsteps back to the bedroom. As I sat on my mattress, he immediately smothered me in nose boops and cuddles; his big, green eyes fully dilated as he kept looking intensely at my face. Buddy's fur was its usual creamsicle color, but much shorter than usual [long-haired cat]; he looked about 3-5 years younger. [When he was alive, the vets guessed he was about 2 when we first took him and kept bumping up his age every visit.] My parents and I then traveled back to our home, but Buddy did not follow. It was discovered that he ran back to the farm with his horse friend. Extra: my cat never ran away from our house, but he definitely bolted from his previous owner(s). He did, however, explore the outskirts of our mostly wooded neighborhood during his outdoor/"guard cat" years. Buddy has an Instagram that is still (mostly) active: buddy_megafluff I miss him so freaking much. 😭🐱🌈