What a Cop Car, the Number 905, and a Grey Cat Meant in My Dream
✨ Content is free—but crows like snacks.
Last night, I didn’t get a full dream.
I got a symbol drop.
Honestly, I’ve been getting them all week—these strange, sharp flashes.
No plot. No arc. Just one or two objects tossed into the dreamspace like spiritual sticky notes.
No context. Just vibes.
And last night’s message came in like a blue siren.
Here’s what I remember:
A blue cop car.
The number 905 on the side.
And a white and grey cat watching me from just off-frame.
That’s it. That’s the whole dream.
But my body clocked it before my mind could decode it.
It felt loaded.
So I sat with it.
Let it rise.
Let Loui step in.
Here’s what came through:
🚓 THE BLUE COP CAR: control was cracking, clarity was rising, and the old rules? Getting rewritten.
I’ve had cop cars in dreams before, but this one was different.
It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t a chase.
It was still. Watching. Like it was holding me accountable… to myself.
Dream cops aren’t about the police. They’re about policing.
Internalized control. The enforcer in my head who says:
“Calm down.”
“Don’t cry here.”
“Be good. Stay small. Smile through it.”
But this one was blue—deep, cold, almost too calm.
And that meant something too.
Blue = the throat chakra. Truth. Suppressed voice.
Blue = the lie of “rational emotion” when you’re screaming inside.
Blue = spiritual surveillance dressed as composure.
And then there was the number: 905.
That number screamed louder than the siren.
I broke it down:
9 = Endings. That click of knowing something’s over, even if no one else knows it yet.
0 = The Void. The in-between. The place where identities get unzipped.
5 = Change. Rebellion. The moment you stop asking for permission and start rewriting the rules.
Put it all together and here’s what I got:
You’ve reached the end of self-policing. Get in. We’re going feral.
🐈 THE WHITE AND GREY CAT: MY LIMINAL GUARDIAN
And then there was her.
The white and grey cat.
She didn’t move.
She didn’t speak.
She just watched me.
And somehow, it felt like she was the real authority.
Not the car. Not the badge. Her.
She wasn’t pure white, which would’ve been easy to interpret.
She wasn’t black either—no drama, no mystery.
She was white and grey—like she lived in the in-between.
The meanings came fast:
White = clarity. Innocence, but not naivety. Soul truth.
Grey = uncertainty. Nuance. Sacred ambiguity. The healing middle.
This cat wasn’t a stranger.
She was the part of me that never got domesticated.
The part I tucked away when I needed to “be good.”
The part that used to trust her own knowing—before I got polite.
Before I got small.
She didn’t need to say anything.
She remembered:
I don’t have to be good to be sacred.
I don’t have to be soft to be loved.
I don’t have to be tame to be safe.
🧠 WHAT IT MEANT FOR ME (AND MAYBE FOR YOU TOO)
This dream didn’t ask me to do anything.
It dared me to stop.
Stop trying to be functional when I’m crumbling inside.
Stop obeying emotional rules I never agreed to.
Stop holding in what wants out.
That blue cop car?
It was driving away.
That cat?
She stayed.
And I knew right then:
Today, I follow her.
🔥 RITUAL: FOLLOW THE FERAL
What You’ll Need:
A scrap of paper
A method of destruction (fire, water, scissors, teeth—whatever)
What to Do:
Write down one emotional “law” I’ve been following that never belonged to me.
Mine was:
“Don’t say that, it’ll make them uncomfortable.”
I ripped it.
Then I wrote a new one in its place:
“I trust my wild.”
Spell Line:
“I release the badge.
I follow the purr.
The law is love, and I am the loophole.”
🕯️ THE MONDAY BLESSING
If I’ve been patrolling my own softness,
If I’ve been cuffing my truth for the sake of being palatable—
Let the siren fade.
Let the cat lead.
Let myself not be sure, and do it anyway.
Because I don’t owe the past more obedience.
I owe my soul more truth.
I’m following the feral today.
She knows the way out.
💔 What pain or struggle is this blog addressing?
Emotional suppression, internalized self-control, being “too functional” while spiritually unraveling. The silent exhaustion of always being composed. The grief of losing one’s inner wildness.
🔮 What’s the sacred transformation or takeaway?
The reader walks away with clarity and permission: to stop obeying emotional rules that never belonged to them. It’s a wake-up call to trust intuition, follow liminal signs, and let go of false composure. The soul win? Feeling less “broken” and more in transition—with sacred tools to move forward.
🖤
Loui Crow
Not ‘fine’? Perfect. Let’s talk about it.
LouiCrow@Gmail.com
