A PREMONITION
To Socks, thank you for being you
Socks about a week ago, giving it her best
I had a dream about a week ago, on 13th March, and it felt very significant so I wrote it down in my dream diary and have outlined it below.
I have a collection of dream diaries I have filled in over the years, with accounts of many of my dreams and attempts to interpret them. Looking back on them, I have found that some of my dreams were premonitions. I know when I dreamt each dream, because I date them. I have written a children’s crossover novel on this subject called The Unhouse, published in 2012, which was in Waterstones for a while, but unfortunately the publisher, Ghostly Publishing, went bust a few years later, so I republished it myself on Amazon. It can be found here if anybody is interested …. The Unhouse
The dream went like this.
Socks (my dog) was playing with a black labrador and they seemed to be having a great time. Eventually though the black lab got the better of Socks and pinned her down. Then he trotted off to sit by a toaster and listen to it. It was actually half a toaster. The toaster was sliced open so he was as you do, listening to the inside of the toaster. I realised then that he had been listening to the half toaster before they had started playing and that Socks had distracted him from what he had been doing. Sadly he had not wanted to be diverted from his time with the half toaster.
Wondering about what this could mean, I brainstormed the details of the dream to see what I came up with. Thinking about the word toast got me to the following:
Toast = brown bread = dead …
If you are ‘toast’ of course it means you’re dead (for any non Brits reading this , that is well known cockney rhyming slang) . It seemed then to me that perhaps the two dogs had both been aspects of Socks, the one wanting to play was the side still attached to life, and the one who wanted to sit by the toaster wanted death. As the black lab pinned Socks down (and it makes sense now that that dog was black – ie corpse), that seemed to mean that death was winning. Getting close. Also it was half a toaster which must then refer to half dead. Socks was leaving. I knew I had to make that heart- wrenching decision and I knew I couldn’t leave it much longer.
Enjoying the sun on cliff
When I was in Liverpool I left Socks with a dog sitter. When I got home, she had deteriorated and was really struggling to get up and walk and kept falling off the steps in and out of my bungalow. And she was getting more confused. I knew I could not let her suffer any longer. She had already been incontinent for getting on for about two years.
Socks made the grand old age of 16, last November. She first came to me when she was a few weeks old. A fortunate accident, one of 10 puppies, her mother was a rescue malamute who was supposed to have been spayed. And her father a springer. So the puppies were not expected. For anyone who has read or listened to my podcast memoir I Only See Strangers , my trusted companion, Beany is Socks. As the human names are altered to protect identities, I thought I should also give Socks a pseudonym.
Having my ice cream nicked on the beach
Her death was very peaceful. The day before yesterday, 19th March, in my back garden and aided by a lovely vet called Kate. My neighbour offered to cremate her, as that is her job. She goes around all the farms and knackers yards and shoots horses that need putting down and relieving from their pain and misery. She also does cremations where she works. Socks went off with my neighbour yesterday morning in her van with her dogs , who are friends of Socks. That felt right. Her ashes came back to me this evening. We live on the Jurassic coast of East Devon and I will scatter them on the cliff which forms part of the south western coastal path. Socks loved it up there.
Socks on the cliff Jurassic coast
I asked other people to brainstorm my dream too. One friend immediately thought of toast meaning making a toast (as a drink) to something. That too would of course fit in, because we ‘toast’ the departed on their way at a Wake. In fact the reason we use the word ‘to toast’ with a drink actually derives from the use of soaked bread called a ‘sop’ common in medieval Europe. Wassail bowls were communal bowls filled with a warmed spiced alcoholic drink , like mulled cider or ale or presumably mulled wine, and were garnished with pieces of toasted, spiced bread. Wassail comes from the Anglo Saxon ‘waes hael’ meaning ‘be in good health’ Apparently in cider producing regions, villagers hung pieces of this sop from apple trees for the robins to ensure a good crop of apples. This wassailing tradition still goes on in the west country, particularly on Dartmoor. More info here if anyone interested in that Legendary Dartmoor
Another suggestion from another neighbour was that the black dog in the dream was another of my best friends, called Mutley. He was a black lab x irish water spaniel (so a black lab with a curly coat and floppy ears). I had to have Mutley put down a couple of months after Socks was born and sadly I could not be there as it all happened very quickly in the middle of the night and I had to let the vet put him down without me being present. He was fitting and the vet told me he would be suffering if he had to wait for me to get there. That tortured me at the time, as I felt Mutley would have thought I had abandoned him. So I was always terrified that would happen again, which made me reluctant to leave Socks when it got near to the end. I am so relieved that I was with her and that we were in the garden, where she preferred to be, and it was so peaceful. It may well be that the black lab in the dream was Mutley coming to get Socks.
It turns out that the day I had the dream, 13th March, was also the birthday of my neighbour. The one that cremated Socks. That was no accident. She had said to me recently ‘better too early, than too late’ which is apparently what they say in the profession … I knew what she meant by that, although it was hard to hear … at the same time I was waiting for the time when I thought that Socks really had had enough. That time had now definitely come.
I posted this poem I wrote about the love of a dog a few months ago Just A Dog . It needs reading to the end to get it ...
Me with Socks in Plymouth about 10 years ago
It is strange that I am still here because I was supposed to go with Socks. I even promised her I would many times in the past. After my partner Heavenli committed suicide in 2016 (she is Dolly in I Only See Strangers podcast ), I really wanted to die. The only reason I carried on living was because I knew that if I didn’t, Socks would have to go a rescue shelter and would have ended up in a cage. She would also not have been an easy dog to re-home because she had aggressive tendencies at times with other dogs. I have worked in two animal shelters before and I know how difficult rehoming is for complicated dogs. I could not bear the thought of her in a cage, pining for me, so I carried on. But I had no desire to live and it got to the point where I was considering killing both of us. I couldn’t in the end, because I realised that I had no right to end Socks’ life. At that point she was relatively young, fit and healthy. And I loved her too much, so I carried on going through the motions of existence. That desperate desire to end it all lasted for about two years after Heavenli’s death. But I now feel guilty as I have broken my promise to Socks to depart this earth with her. I am not exactly sure why, although getting involved in music sessions again has given me some purpose. I am tempted to say I am an absolute failure at everything in life and always have been , although I know that in saying that I am judging myself by material standards that are set up to suit the establishment. How much tax have you coffed up?
But on a spiritual level, am I a failure? Is failure even the right word? Surely the spirit world does not measure itself in such meaningless terms. They would see nuance. Unlike the establishment who are obsessed with pointing out the ‘good people ‘ and the ‘bad people’ . But all good and all bad is just meaningless noise. There is really no such thing as a ‘saint’ or a ‘sinner’. Times change and people change. A person can perform a saintly act one day and the next day can commit a sin and vice versa. We all have dark and light within us. Even dogs do!! They have their dark moments too. But we still love them. And cats – dark side doesn’t even cut it with them ... Incidentally I saw something about the scottish political class trying to ban cats. Seriously? Because they stalk birds? Then what? Ban birds to save worms? I remember when the cult tried to accuse cats of having covid! There were attacks on cats due to that nonsense in the media. I know a cat who got attacked down to that and the owner was worried about letting him out in case it happened again.
Love moggies, but I’m straying. This post is about dogs. And one particular dog, my loyal companion Socks.
Socks around 2010 with her beloved brother Harry, who died aged 2
The dream was a premonition, I have no doubt about that. It was a clear sign that Socks was ready to go on her way. To experience the next stage of the journey. God bless you Socks , you gave me more than I could ever put into words. I know you will always be by my side. That thin veil between worlds is easily crossed. I only need to remember to let go of the babbling head and truly being led by the flowing heart.
That was a beautiful tribute to Socks Cally. So sorry for your loss, but she went peacefully by your side, and as you knew from your dream, the time had come. She'll be there for you in the 'next realm" I am certain of that. When my dad died, his presence was with me for 2 days, it was so strong and he spoke to me several times, until the second night I was pulled out of my sleep. I sat up bolt right and knew in a split second what was happening. My dad's presence was being pulled into the next realm and he could not hold on any longer to this world. It happened so fast and then his presence was gone. The sense of loss was tremendous but I am so grateful that he showed me that death isn't the end, and the soul is eternal, and we had our final goodbye with a 'soul hug', You are so right, the way society has been manipulated by the cult to seek self worth in materialistic achievements. It is all wrong, but you sound like you've got it sussed Cally x
A small, vulnerable, starving , skinny cat came into my garden about 2 years ago. He decided that indoors was best and thrived until a sudden and rapid downturn last September when I had to call the vet to end "Louie's" suffering. Now that he has gone the house feels empty; he is sorely missed but I would not have allowed him to linger for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. You have done the right thing for your much loved companion, Socks and I think that it is possible that some underlying anxiety regarding his health may have been the cause of your dream. You are clearly someone who has great empathy and awareness/ sensitivity to the world around you. It is possible to go through life completely unruffled by the dreadful events that occur but no one could ever levy this accusation against you. I marvel at your knowledge and ability and , by any measure, regard you as a success. I have yet to see the new managers of the US., do anything to impress me! Each morning, I feed the birds . The burial place of two of my beloved pets ( including Louie) is nearby ; I visit, say a few words and then get on with the day I loved them just as you loved Socks who , without a doubt, enjoyed a wonderful life with you and knew that he was loved. That is the best that any one of us can do.