I was looking at a pile of old broken things--including a TV--in the living room of the house of one of my grandparents. Walking into an adjoining room, I began to collect pins and nails that I had seen on the floor. They'd been hurting me and I decided to contain them into a little plastic container.
When I returned to the room, things had been rearranged--and there was a newly sealed box for the TV. I looked at it, and my (deceased) grandfather was sitting in a recliner looking at it. Feeling emotional, I teared up a bit.
me: "It's just sad. I guess there was a time when you bought a new TV and it was exciting, before the stroke and when all you could do was flip through channels."
grandfather: "Well these things happen. And it hasn't turned out to be all bad. Why--morris here just turned 20."
It seemed like a fairly normal cat, but its teeth were somewhat awry. I reached out my hand to pet it, but it moved away, and spoke.
Morris might not have been the name of the cat and it might have been another age. Also these grandparents always had dogs, so its weird there'd be a cat on that sofa.
me: "Ok, another example right there. Cats can't talk. People can't talk to the dead. So what's going on?"
grandfather: "I'll see that we do more to get hammer out... the, uh..."
me: "The mechanics of these interactions."
grandfather: "Yes. We'll see what we can do. And also, see what we can do to get square on why you and I are unique in this."
me: "I think the question is: Why is everyone else not square about this. It leads me to wonder what's gone wrong. What's being hidden, and for what purpose?"
The grandfather figure seemed to transform into a big grey cat/rat thing and looked at me closely, bringing its face right up to mine.
big cat: (scornfully) "Hateful."
me: "Yes, I have been."
Have been trying to work on that.
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