I couldn’t sleep last night and in the early morning hours, I chose to consume some Benadryl. After an hour or so, I still wasn’t drowsy. Somewhere in the early morning hours, just before dawn, I must have drifted off. I dreamt I was to fight, choke and kill a cat. This ended up not being a dream, but a dream-memory. I was in a room with a large cat, possibly a tom. The cat was was a striped tabby; I estimate the cat to be approximately fifteen to twenty pounds. I reached out and gripped the cat by the throat and it of course started to growl and resist. The cat wrapped its legs around my arms and we entered into mortal-combat. To prevent scratches and being bitten, I pulled the cat closer and rolled my body on top of the now irate feline. I pressed down with all my weight and in a dual-effort to destroy my four-legged enemy, I applied all my body weight to its ribs to compress the cat’s lungs. This strategy appeared to be effective. I would choke the cat at his throat and apply my weight to his ribs. I must have been a small child as the cat was quite a formidable opponent. The dream was so unpleasant, I forced myself conscious. While I rested in bed, my eyes open, my heart pounding, I still heard the sounds of the growling and dying cat. I could still feel the cat in my grips. I could feel his lunging and jerking. I could feel the cat, but when I looked at my arms, there was nothing there. I’ve relived torture like this many times, but this was just as disturbing. I took me fifteen minutes to get the adrenaline effects under control. I had to ask myself, what were the consequences of not defeating the cat? I know I don’t want to know.