I had another dream about the mouse. Oh, I’m sorry; I never shared my first dream. I thought about it, but ended up not posting it. But now that I’ve had two dreams about the house mouse, I think a post is well-warranted.
I never followed up on the poll either. For those of you who follow my blog, you’ll remember the majority believed the mouse just left on its own. I can report that despite the plethora of trapping devices and other deterrents that decorate our house, there is no mouse to be found. At one point, Maria and I thought he might be in the mouse house and we stared at it for several seconds on the table before Maria opened it. No mouse.
So the past couple weeks I’ve dreamed about our mouse. The first dream was really odd: as I was getting ready to leave the house, there was a huge dead mouse in the middle of the kitchen floor – more like a rat. And there were bits and pieces of other mice all around. I noticed this just as some EMTs came up to our door. They weren’t there for the mice (as my sister so deftly pointed out to me, EMTs are not exterminators). I believe they had the wrong house, but I was kind of hoping they’d take care of the mouse mess for me.
My second dream was just last night. Maria and I were getting ready to leave the house to go somewhere. The door was open as we were talking. I was in the living room and she was standing by the door. All of a sudden, this huge black mouse came running in and stopped in the middle of the carpet. He looked bigger than I remember him, but he was really skinny – and super stressed out. He looked more like a frazzled, cartoon mouse on crack. We just kind of looked at him for a minute as he stood on his hind legs, and then he frantically left the house.
So I’m thinking until I get some closure on this mouse thing, I’m going to keep having these dreams. Last week I was at our main office. This girl had a weird rubber mouse and trap on her desk. Like an idiot, I pushed the button that said “push me” and the whole thing lit up and shook as the mouse squealed. I’ll tell you what, I squealed a lot louder than that stupid rubber mouse. On Friday I was at the London Market on 700 East. I saw this cute little gray stuffed animal. I walked over to pick it up and it was a mouse. I disgustedly said, “Ew!” at a more than audible level. People were looking.