She looked right at me with wide eyes and exclaimed urgently, "Water!"
I remember feeling slightly startled that she had spoken, but this was replaced immediately by a feeling that it was perfectly natural that she should express herself this way. I was puzzled that it had surprised me. Why wouldn't she ask for water, if she needed some?
So I went to the kitchen, but the water bowl wasn't there. I asked her conversationally, "Where's the bowl again?"
She trotted around the wall into the dining room and showed me the bowl. "Here, over here." It was bone dry. I felt badly for her, that I had neglected to notice it earlier, and I filled it up.
That's all of the dream I remember. This morning I checked the water bowl, and it had plenty of water. My cat, lounging comfortably on the couch, said nothing.
