Freddy Mercury’s Cats

The other day I woke up to a message from a friend telling me Freddy Mercury was a cat person. He would call them when on tours, had them put on the line and would talk to them at length. This was the sweetest thing I had heard in a long time. It is also something I can acutely empathize with. When I’m out of town I also try to communicate with our companions over the phone. If I’m not trying to make them meow to me over the speaker then I’m getting the latest updates about their daily adventures.

After I got my friend’s message while still half a sleep, I did a google image search, looked at Freddy and his cats for a few minutes and soon dozed off again to dream. I dreamt that Freddy was my father. I get the news from my mom. Apparently when my mom and dad first met, they soon realized that mom was pregnant and it could not have been from dad but from a previous short-lived fling she’d had with Freddy. Nothing in the dream is ever surprising or shocking. Everyone is very matter-of-fact and chill. It turns out Freddy is soon coming to Istanbul for a concert. I contact him via email, tell him the news and offer to pick him up from the airport to have a coffee somewhere. Since everyone in the dream is so cool and credulous, Freddy of course accepts. My partner and I pick him up and we go to a cafe which overlooks a busy promenade.

Freddy is nice and kind and very quiet. Soon I also turn to introspection and a funny train of rationalizations ensue: “I always thought I got my introversion from my father, it turns out my biological father is also an introvert, what a coincidence!” Then I think to myself “but I look nothing like Freddy yet I do look like my father. But perhaps it was all just selective cognition; we looked for similar traits and found them. Plus I look more like my mom and she has blue- and green-eyed relatives too so I could have gotten the traits that I thought I got from my father from them” etc.  Meanwhile we keep spotting celebrities from the music world walking on the promenade. It turns out there is some music festival and maybe that’s why Freddy is here too.

The dream is intriguing not for the subject matter but for the kind of relationship with truth that it suggests. New claims to truth are rapidly consumed and digested with no apparent effect on the organism either ill or beneficent. There is no doubt or scrutiny no matter how absurd the propositions are. New information rapidly supplants the old. All that remains is to reinterpret/rationalize the past in light of the present facts. Everything is convenient and uneventful.

On a different note, both my fathers, real and imagined, are dreams now. And I do love Freddy. We are kin in our queerdom/queengdom.

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies

Fairytales of yesterday they grow but never die

I can fly, my friends

 

P.S. Please google Freddy’s cats. Ah that vest :)

 

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