This was basically the plot of Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers.

Well, see, what most people don’t understand about cats is, that that reincarnation is real. Forget religion, forget god, it’s all hocus pocus voodoo bullshit. Instead, we have cats, who are the reincarnated spirits of war veterans who didn’t commit any war crimes. And thus, they get to come back to life as a cat.

Any time you see them staring off into the distance, it’s just like when Grandpas eyes would get all distant. He’d start having war flashbacks. Grandpa fought in WWII. He saw things. Horrific things on the beaches of Normandy. He was just 16 years old. He lied about his age, to be let into the army. The army knew he was lying, but dammit! Hitler needed to be stopped! So in he went. Completely unprepared for the hell that awaited him.

As he stormed out of that carrier boat, and into an ocean, which hue had already turned crimson red. Red from the blood of his fallen comrads before they even made it to land. It was only 15 feet to shore, but only about 60% of men made it there. Men? They were nothing more than boys! Barely some out of high school! In his case, and in many cases, not even that old. But on this day, he either became a man, or became a corpse. This is why he was here. This is what it was all about. Atlantic wall before him. Nazis in fortified positions with turret guns that fired so many rounds per second, that the turrets steel boiled red. But he’s dodged the incoming shitstorm of bullets. His feet now firly planted on the sand of the beach. He’s made landfall. His gauntlet is not over however. It’s just begun. Zig zagging across the beach, he finds some cover behind a scrap of metal. It won’t protect him from enemy fire, should they shoot at the sheet metal, but it does obscure their view of him. Out of sight, out of mind in this chaos, right? At his feet before him also using the sheet metal for cover is Charlie. He met Charlie in boot camp. They came up the ranks together. Bonding over the experience of wearing the uniform. Charlie was 18, and in just a few short weeks became like a brother. Now Charlie was hiding with him behind this sheet metal, and they made a plan. Just up ahead is a turned over jeep washed ashore by the unpredictable tides. The innitial plan was to storm the beaches with tanks, and jeeps, but the weather made that impossible. One of the jeeps must have fallen off the lander, and gotten washed ashore. Your grandfather and Charlie intended on using it as cover…if they could just make it there. The beaches littered with dead allied teenagers from every country. The jeep was about 50 feet away. Charlie figured if they zigzagged to it, they couldn’t shoot BOTH of them! So on the count of three, off they went. Bullets hailing from all directions. Your grandfather hit in the knee, but it was run through the pain, or ease it with death. Finally they made it to the jeep.

As they caught their breath, and wheezed, Chalie tended to your grandfathers leg wound. Using nothing but a pocket knife, and his own T-Shirt to tie off the wound, 3 bullets were removed. Charlie told your grandfather "Don’t worry. You stay here and stay safe. You’re wounded. No sense in trying to run on a blown out knee. I’m going to scale that damn wall and shoot every one of those Nazi sons of bitches! Your grandfather gave him a salute. Knowing he was standing in the presense of a real American hero.

Just then 3 bullets all at once hit Charlie. His head exploding into all directions, and his corpse fell in it’s place. Blood gushing out of his neck where his head had just been seconds before. Your grandfather was traumatized. A house across an ocean would recieve a black weath at their door to an inconsolable mother. THEY did this. The NAZIS did this. THEY killed your grandfathers brother in arms! There would be hell to pay for this!

Pulling the guns off Charlies corpse, your grandfather, now filled with a burning red rage in his heart. Yes. That’s the word. Red. Today was all about red. The ocean which was a sea of blood. The gun turrets which burned red from overusage. The firey rage your grandfather felt. Bad leg and all now firing 2 automatic guns. One in each hand, in what must have been the visual inspiration for the Rambo movies decades later. He now stormed the beach with a vengance. This war had torn the world apart. For all the victims of the holocaust. For all the hundreds of thousands of bombs dropped accross the world. For every war crime. And for Charlie! Your grandfather was going to storm that wall! Bad leg and all! He’d kill every single nazi he saw! He’d kill Hitler himself!!! He was VENGANCE INCARNATED!!! HE WAS JUSTICE REALIZED!!! HE WAS a big ol’ goofball!

Flashback to modern day reality

Your grandfather is a 6 month old kitten. In a suburban house, with a loving family. Having war flashbacks that are all too real. Staring at a blank wall…and seeing Charlie…he’ll never forget Charlie…

Meow.

Sometimes I think it is ghosts. Other times I think they can see small gnats or insects that are otherwise unnoticed. But I definitely think it might be ghosts sometimes.

When my son was less than one year old, he kept staring intently at a particular blank corner of the ceiling in our old apartment and cooing as if in response to something.

Maybe ghosts, maybe not, but SOMETHING!

Maybe lights on the wall, or sound reflecting off it weird?