TheBanyanTree: A Ferret Dream

[Monique]

I dreamed I had a ferret. Well, I didn't HAVE a ferret, so much as a ferret
found me. I was far from home, I think, walking back from a client who'd had
the gall to expect me to go off with them for a month for training without
paying me premium rates, which they would have to, and for implying that I
was expensive in the first place, which, of course, I most certainly am not,
I'm quite reasonable for the value and the ability to wisecracks while
correcting their mistakes, but that's neither here nor there. (I also
dreamed I had just gone through an onerous process with this client, the
details of which could be taken up in just five short long-winded
paragraphs, so we'll skip that for now.)

I was walking along and a ferret found me. I'm not fond of ferrets. I know
nothing of ferrets. But this one came all clean and shiny and with a ribbon
around its neck, and I thought it was cute. And it started following me.
They do that, right? Just follow random people? So there I was, and there
was ferret. 

And I picked the ferret up. Like I said, I know nothing of ferrets except
what I see Bucky and Satchel experience, so the ferret of my dreams is
nothing like a ferret in real life, except, perhaps, in some outward
appearance, but even that, I'm sure has been changed so that I could see, in
my dream, what I wanted to see. So I picked up the ferret and I petted it,
and it lay close against me and almost purred. I say almost, because I don't
believe ferrets purr, mine certainly didn't, but if it could have I'm sure
it would have.

We walked for awhile like that, me holding the ferret. It was a nice docile
creature, happy to just lie limply. 

And then I put the ferret down. Why not? One doesn't need to carry a ferret
forever. They have their own ambulatory system. And ferret saw, over on the
right, a rather largish black animal. A large cat? Not a cat. Something on
the order of a skunk, or a raccoon, but not either of those. 

And the ferret, my sweet adorable ferret that I was going to take home with
me despite the fact everyone would say, "Ewwwww, a ferret, what's wrong with
you?" walked up to this cute black animal, picked it up carefully with its
front paws despite the animal being bigger than the ferret, and started to
consume the animal, feet first.

I was appalled. Horrified. I saw the beginning of the death by being eaten
by a ferret (something which I'm quite sure may not be listed in the
directory that lists medical causes of death) and I had to look away, I
couldn't watch anymore, and I was helpless to save the animal. It happened
too fast, and the ferret, frankly, at that point, scared the hell out of me.

I began to walk away. I did walk away. No way was ferret coming with me now,
no way, no sirree, that ferret would have to fend for itself (not that it
would have a problem doing so, apparently able to find food in the most
unlikeliest of places). 

Ferret, once finished with its gourmet feast of cute black animal, followed
me. Why not? We'd established a rapport, a meeting of the minds, and I was
certain to lead it somewhere where it could have a nice strong drink to wash
down that pesky animal it had consumed. 

Somehow I managed to convince myself that I lost ferret, that ferret would
not, could not, find me, and I arrived safely at my domicile. It's not a
recognizable domicile, but it was mine, that much I know. And I resolved not
to tell you, or anyone, about the ferret, because it was just too much. 

Was I making myself something to eat? I don't know, but I was in the
kitchen. And ferret showed up right behind me, clean and shiny as if it had
never even considered downing an entire largish animal, larger than itself.
I admired the ferret's ability to clean itself up so thoroughly, then
pondered how to get rid of it. 

Here comes the weird part. You thought it was weird already? Don't know me
very well, do you? There was a pan on the stove with something cooking in
it. I don't know what, and I guess I didn't care, because I picked up the
ferret and shoved it into the pan. 

Poor ferret. I think it died not from being cooked alive, but by being
smothered by the contents of the pan. I did remove it from the heat source.
There wasn't to be any cooking of the ferret, I just wanted it GONE, out of
my sight, away from me, and I was afraid of it.

And when you came in later I asked if you could do me a huge favor. You said
sure, of course, and I asked if you could dispose of the contents of the pan
when you had a chance. I couldn't bear to look at it myself. And you looked
at it and you said, "Hey, what's in there?"

"A ferret," I said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"No way! What's a ferret doing in there?"

"He followed me home. Long story. Short story: end of ferret."

"Man, this is going to make me sick." You looked, if not a little green,
horrified. I am not the sort of person to go around drowning ferrets, or
other small animals, in pots of cooking food on my stove. This was, I
believe, out of character.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I shouldn't have asked, it's just bothering me so much
. . . "

"Oh, I'll take care of it, but later, okay?" You still looked a bit green.

"Thank you." 

And I was immeasurably grateful that you were willing to dispose of the dead
bodies I created as I went merrily down the path, that you were there to
fall back on in my moment of need. 

There is no moral to the story. It was only a dream. A dream about a doomed
ferret who didn't have the sense to eat his prey where he couldn't be seen.
Should ferret show up again, you will be notified. By the screaming. My
screaming is unmistakable, you will recognize it for what it is.


Monique