I write;I think;I know.

all change

"Cockroach," I mumbled late one afternoon.

"I thought we agreed," said my cat, "never to mention that particular aspect of the concord."

"Indeed," I agreed, "although the synchronicity on this one has gotten a bit strong."

"In that case," said my cat, "you better explain."

"Well firstly," I began, "last night I had a dream that included a cockroach."

"Some would describe that," suggested my cat, "as a nightmare."

"Certainly not," I asserted, "there's a show that's a favourite of mine that uses a cockroach as a sort of on screen visual signature for one of the main characters. It was a bit freaky at first, bugs tend to catch you like that, but after a brief discussion we both got over it."

"Great," said my cat. "Cockroaches joining equity," she muttered under her breath, "what next."

"Anyhow," I continued, "when I woke this morning I was considering the cockroach and began to remember the relationship to this tv-show. Without much thought I grabbed an inside-out t-shirt at random from my pile of inside-out t-shirts and was in no way surprised when I'd slipped into it that it proved to be one that professes my allegiance to that show. It's an item that also has a bit of a prior dream history so the odd effect was magnified somewhat."

"Dream history," asked my cat with casual disinterest. She began licking her paw and for a brief moment she flicked a look of casual amusement at me.

"I must have been over a year ago now," I admitted. "I had a dream which was no more or less strange than any other dream, but in this dream I was wandering around an unfamiliar shop full of books and the kinds of games and action figures favoured by a generation of youngsters. After tripping through the dreamscape for what seemed like an eternity I found some clothing and helped myself to a change in attire."

"I'd imagine," said my cat, "you're going to tell me it was a future vision."

"Indeed," I agreed, "a day or so later, after the dream had slipped out of my current stack, I found myself in a shop that sold comic books and action figures." I smiled, "precisely the sort of shop which my inner child gets a kick out of. I'd known of this shop's existence, but this was the first time I'd managed to find it."

"And the t-shirt," queried my cat.

"I unexpectedly found a rack of them," I admitted, "all had varying designs on the front, and finding one which reminded me of a favoured show had me happily bouncing over to the counter to purchase it. At the very moment I passed over my money I had a vivid recollection of this dream."

"Of interest," said my cat, "but not that interesting."

"Perhaps not," I continued, "but a couple of months later one of the supporting characters in this particular show was revealed as possessing the ability to have future visions in her dreams."

"Okay," said my cat, "now that is odd."

"Indeed," I nodded. "Anyhow so far all this relates to the casual weirdness of this morning I simply classed it as nothing special in so much as most of my life these days is casually weird and got on with things. Only after not hearing of cockroaches publicly for months several people today have mentioned them. Of course there's the classic 'need Dalek' reference, but the other reminded me of you."

"Need Dalek," queried my cat with obvious confusion.

"Exterminate."

"Oh," she smiled, "and the one that reminded you of me."

"Somebody related to me the story," I smiled, "of a cockroach who wrote poetry whose best friend was a cat."

"That sounds," purred my cat, "rather delightful."

"Yes," I agreed, "I thought so too. I especially liked the description of how this cockroach typed in lowercase because it couldn't jump on shift and the letter keys to produce capitals."

"All lower case," muttered my cat, "sounds like the stuff you've been known churn out when your personality gets especially fragmented."

"True," I agreed. "Although after a bit of reflection the related oddness doesn't end there."

"Go on," encouraged my cat.

"Well I got caught in a conversation," I continued, "where another made a reference to the statement that 'god is dead' some philosopher had uttered years before."

"Indeed," said my cat, "the philosopher in question was alluding to the fact that god was no longer considered a viable source of perceived wisdom, that it was a concept people had stopped believing in to the extent that god was no longer credited as appearing in dreams."

"Precisely," I agreed, "what's funny here is that in the very first episode of the tv-show that I'm currently advertising on my chest one of the characters presented the argument that god is a cockroach."

"I think," said my other cat, "God is trying to tell you something."