The following is a true story. It happened to me three months ago. I have changed the name of the band to avoid legal problems and also to avoid possibly ruining a police investigation. I know many people won’t believe this story, or at least believe it is anything more than coincidence. My own beliefs in religion and/or paranormal events are that I just remain open to anything that happens directly to me and maintain a healthy skepticism for tales I hear from others, so I’ll understand your doubt.
On January 24th, 2010, I was having what seemed like an ordinary dream. A friendly coworker and I were working “in the field,” driving around to locations. I don’t know doing exactly what. We were in a parking lot, when suddenly, the tone of the dream changed when a kitten entered the parking lot. It was a very small fuzzy black and white kitten. My first thought was, Uh-oh, the kind I’m most allergic to, long hair, etc. I called it and it came to me. I picked it up and was holding it up facing me when I noticed the chest area was shaved and there was writing on its chest. Now, you know how dreams are; its chest would be tiny, but in the dream, it was this great expanse with plenty of room to write on. I began to read the word, which was tattooed in light purple. It was a long word, spanning the curvature of the kitten’s chest, and I had to move my eyes from side to side to get to the end. At first I thought it said “Angel” and I thought, Oh, this is something religious , but then I got to the end of the word, and what it said was “S A N G E L I C A.”
In addition to the tatooed word, there were other symbol-looking characters tatooed around and between the letters which, taken as a whole, resembled an abstract baby’s face. There were two little half-moon smiley looking things that looked like closed eyelids. In the dream, as the cruelty of it dawned on me, I became frantic, knowing that someone had tatooed this poor kitten, was torturing this kitten, and I thought perhaps a baby was involved as well because of the other markings. I got in the car and was trying to get my bearings. It wasn’t a part of town I knew. I was looking for names of cross-streets so I could call police and tell them where to start looking for the kitten’s torturer. The rest of the dream was consumed with frantically trying to find a way to report it to the police. When I woke up from the dream, I had an unsettled feeling, but I find weird dreams more interesting than scary, so I just made a mental note to look up “Sangelica,” a word I’d never heard before, to find out what, if anything, it meant, in an effort to interpret the dream.
After doing my usual cooking and working, I remembered to look up “Sangelica” on Google, just expecting to find a definition of it or perhaps that it was a proper name of something. Instead, upon Googling, the first search listing was for a MySpace page for a band by that name. Only because the Google description mentioned “goth” did I bother to open up the link. I thought I’d take a quick look and then return to the Google listing to find a definition of “Sangelica.” I opened the MySpace link and shivers ran through me when the first thing written on the page said “Free the catsssss.” At that moment I knew I was supposed to find this page and that the dream was somehow prescient.
I began looking through the website. There were references to cats in the song titles, in the thumbnails by the song titles, and in the lyrics. In addition, there was a grotesque “sculpture,” the biggest photo on the page, of four fawns cut in half at the torso and stuffed (taxidermy) in an artistic arrangement wearing ribbon harnesses and with guns strapped to their feet. I got a very bad feeling, and the panic I felt in the dream returned, with a “knowing” that I had to try to let authorities know.
Looking at the names and links of the band members, I followed a trail to the female singer’s personal website. The graphics going into her website were grotesque looking cats that looked as if someone had shaved them, just as in the dream. The cat graphics looked slightly humanoid, as they stood on their two hind feet. These were not “cute” cat graphics. They were creepy graphics.
Under Bio, I found a choice of links to Lyrics, Photos, and, unbelievably, Cats. Upon choosing Cats, I found myself at an entire web page devoted to cats. Before commencing with a chronological history of her cats, she had a lengthy introduction about how cats mean more to her than they do other people, a narrative about how smart she was about animals, and then a memory from when she was 10 and had supposedly helped some animal organization do “minor surgery” on some wild animals.
Then it began listing her cats from when she was young to today, with stories about how she got them and how they died, or more precisely, what condition they were in when she found them dead or maimed. The first two stories described how as a child she used to “hit my cat hard,” her words, when it would try to escape from her grasp. She talks about her uncontained impulse to hurt them. Further down the page, in later years’ cat stories, she no longer took credit for abusing the cats, but it was creepy how she described the grotesque condition she allegedly found many of them in, such as eye popping out, crushed, etc., and described their deaths in what seemed to me to be a very grisly obsessive way. She didn’t admit any cruelty in adulthood, but conspicuously absent was a single tale of one of her cats dying peacefully of old age. There was one comment about one that he was lucky because he was a big cat and better able to defend himself against her.
Still feeling that this information had come to me for a reason and that I was supposed to act on it, I looked up her name in Wikipedia, and it said the band was based in L.A. I called L.A. Police Animal Cruelty Task Force and told an officer the story. I told him about the dream, knowing that that would reduce my credibility. I told him I had never heard of her or the band before the dream and have no idea if they are still in L.A. Logically, I didn’t expect to be taken seriously and was actually embarassed to be calling with this wild tale, but I felt unburdened just by having reported it, which is all I could think to do. The officer did write me a follow-up e-mail later saying they were looking into it. I felt I had done my duty. I will probably never know what, if anything, came of it, but I know I was given that dream for a reason, and the reason was to try to help some cats.
After having time to think everything through, I kept asking, Why me? And then I realized who else with an intense interest in criminal psychology, dreams, and animals would also follow a rabbit trail and bother to open up a band site of goth music? And it became clear right then why I was sent this message by way of a kitten in a dream.