Dream Log: Rescuing Kittens in Paris

In last night's dream -- coronavirus: non-existent. Social distancing: not practiced. My age: 59, same as in waking like. Location: Paris. Did it resemble the real Paris: partly. It was less built-up than the real Paris. Other people in the dream: unknown to me from waking life.

We were riding in a double-decker bus somewhat like the ones I've seen in Manhattan and London, except that the top level was enclosed. The whole vehicle felt a bit top-heavy, sluggish and old. I was sitting in the top level. I had a notebook, and paperback book and several smaller items with me, each about the size of a matchbox. I was having trouble holding on to everything, I keenly felt the need for a briefcase or backpack.

Suddenly the bus slammed to a halt when one of the passengers shouted that someone outside was abusing kittens.

I and several other passengers immediately scrambled off of the bus and ran in the direction the shouting person had been pointing. Only with difficulty did I keep ahold of all of my possessions. In front of the house we were running toward, two boys stopped stuffing kittens into garbage cans and ran away. (This is an example of how this dream Paris was unrealistically spread out: this neighborhood had one-and-two story single family houses and did not seem to be extravagantly wealthy.)

We found four kittens in the trash cans. No one came to the door when we rang the bell of the house in whose small front yard this was happening. We didn't know where home was for these kittens, so we decided to just wait there with them, until we could figure out their situation. By a stroke of good luck, someone happened to have a bottle of milk in their backpack. The bus driver called out that he had a schedule to keep. We called back that we understood and waved him on. Someone called the local Humane Society.

One of the other people from the bus, a young man, made fun of me, calling me old, and also mocking my obvious need for a briefcase or backpack. I ignored him, thinking that it was a rather strange combination, kind to kittens in need and a jerk to human strangers.

Some of us decided to walk to a nearby Humane society shelter with the kittens, while others stayed behind, in case they were able to solve the question of the kittens' ownership. We exchanged phone numbers. After a couple of blocks of walking through a dream version of France which was a bit more suburban than the real Paris, I woke up.