The Helicopter Cats

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Tails whirling, the helicopter cats hovered over the craggy terrain, searching for a place to land. Bits of loose fur swirled in the downdraft, which stirred my hair, as I gazed up at them in wonder. Helicopter cats!

The smaller cat-craft, apparently the leader, touched down with a thump on a prominence near-by, and began to knead the hip-like mound, perfecting it as a landing zone. Satisfied with the terra-forming it had accomplished, it settled onto the fleshy hillock, and surveyed its surroundings. Multi-colored squares of fields draped all the near-by hills. The wind sighed, and occasionally a (not-so) distant rumble was heard. Leader cat-craft purred in satisfaction. Alpha-Cat Base was secure.

The second helicopter cat was clearly designed for cargo, and black as the black-op the felines were engaged in; to infiltrate and dig in. With a clumsy, flat-footed tumble, he set down like a box slipping from exhausted hands, landing on your feet with a crash. Immediately, he circled in place like the dog he might better have been, drilling through my comfortably splayed legs to re-arrange them for his comfort. His nest established, he settled into it with an audible sigh, clearly heard by me now, awake as I was by then. "Beta-'Copter-cat Base is secure...", he reported, clear as day. "Purrrrrrr..."

A quiet minute passed, and then the grooming began, the sound-effect which had set off my dream:

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Fiercely, hind-paws were hunting and scritching behind ears and around necks, in search of fleas. The helicopter-cats, perched in place, arranged around the bed's terrain, ran up their engines, ready to hover and fly again...