Rescuing a half-dead cockatiel from the toilet (a metaphor)

It's been a long time since I've had a dream that I could remember clearly, and that stayed with me long enough that I could think about it. A quick Google search informed me that the last time it happened was May 2005, when I had a rather jarring dream about a baby tiger. This one didn't pack nearly the same emotional punch, but I do remember it, and you might find it mildly amusing if there's nothing good on television.

Now that I think about it, most of the weird dreams that stand out in my memory have animals in them. I suppose that makes sense, because I have always loved animals, and they manage to tug at my heart strings and gain my sympathy, even if they are behaving in a way that is, well, downright stupid.

My dream last night was about a stupid little cockatiel. We had cockatiels as pets many years ago, before we had children. That's another theme with some of these odd dreams I remember--they often feature an animal I haven't had as a pet in a long time.

In last night's dream, a cockatiel flew (from where, I have no idea) into my bathroom and straight into the toilet. There it was, head down in that little hole, wet rump protruding. Not moving. It seemed like it could be dead, but it was also seemed like it couldn't have died so quickly.

Now what? No one is home but me, and there's a possibly dead cockatiel in my toilet. It's not getting out of there on its own, that's for sure. But it might be dead (ick) and it's (have I mentioned this?) in the toilet. Ick, ick. Realizing I really have no other choice, I plunge my hand into the water, grab the soggy bird, and drop him into the empty bathtub. At first, he doesn't move. Then I poke him, or something, and he starts to stir.

Okay, good, he's alive. Now what? I'd like to be able to wash him or something, given where he's been, but I'm not sure how to do that, or what he can handle given his recent brush with death. My mom comes up to me ('cause it's a dream, and therefore I'm still living at home) and asks what's going on. I remember her in the dream asking incredulously, "He flew *into* the toilet?!" Yep. Not a very smart birdie, huh?

But what do I do with him. Because it's a dream, in addition to still living at home, I at the same time have my current family and all of our pets, so taking in another is not an option. So I try to figure out who I can call about this bird.

That point is where I woke up. The first thing I became aware of was the feeling that something was "perched" on my right shoulder. Yeah, right. I turned, and discovered that Demetrius had rolled over in his sleep in such a way that his fingertips were resting lightly on my shoulder. Ah. That would explain it--I was aware of this sensation, but I was asleep, so my unconscious mind knitted together a story around it.

When I think about my own dreams, and what they might mean, I look to what's been on my mind recently. Well, that would have to be the Democratic party, and more specifically the Democratic party in Ohio.

But that's just silly. The Ohio Democratic Party isn't really *that* stupid, is it? That it would fly, intentionally, straight into the toilet?

Hmm. Well, if that's what the dream *was* about, I suppose it's noteworthy that I couldn't bear to just let it die. Especially not in *my* bathroom...

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