Were I a surrealist painter I would paint several versions of this dream. Vallejo would write a difficult, but not surrealist poem about it. I wish I had Freud or Jung to study it. In it, I was visiting at a huge house, large enough to be a castle. My room had a huge waterbed and my cat who died in 2000 would jump up on me while I slept. Soon hands would reach up from under the bed to pet her. I decided that these were the hands of the friendly dead and I was not afraid, but I was concerned because there was no cat food (I was envisioning Science Diet) in the kitchen cupboard. You got to the restaurant-style kitchen through long corridors. The first day I kept writing my paper (I was on a writing retreat) and cooked in the kitchen but on subsequent days I would look for the kitchen but not find it, and instead kept finding parts of the castle that were for non-residents: supermarkets, delicatessens, restaurants, but no kitchen and no place that sold Science Diet.Then I was sleeping again and the hands that came to pet the cat also started holding my head to the pillow. Now it was harder to get up and look for food for the cat, who was getting thinner. I realized I had gone to New Orleans for the weekend recently and made no provisions for the cat, and was shocked. This caused me to wrest my head away from the hands of the dead and get up in real life to go into the kitchen and look for Science Diet. There I realized that this cat has been dead for 16 years. “I believe I have visited the land of the dead in this dream,” I said. “Of all my dreams, this is the one appearing to come from the deepest levels of the unconscious. What caused it?” “If dreams communicate, who is trying to communicate with me?” Finally I thought, “It is a dream about the prisoners on death row at Angola.” But what does it sound like, and what methods can be used to interpret it?