Seeing rats in a dream means the appearance of secret enemies that are not so easy to get rid of.

Huge, impudent rats running around the house in reality portend family troubles and insincerity of friends, discord in business and losses.

If in a dream you set a trap for rats, it means that in reality you will become aware of the intentions of your enemies.

A trapped rat portends a robbery of an apartment or a scandal with neighbors.

Kill a rat - get rid of slander and rivalry.

A dead rat - to a contagious disease. To drive rats out of the room, wielding a poker or something of the same kind - there will be a struggle with varying success and deplorable results.

To be afraid of rats in a dream - in reality you will disappear into an unpleasant story and will be falsely accused.

Grab a rat with your hands - you will experience disgust for a low, vile person.

To see a cat catching a rat - get saving support in time.

If a cat devours a rat before your eyes, you will witness an unpleasant family scene in the house of your friends.

Subscribe to the channel Dream Interpretation!

Subscribe to the channel Dream Interpretation!

Dream Interpretation - Rat

Rats in a dream are dangerous enemies. They can also mean our loved ones, who give us constant trouble and grief.

Killing a rat in a dream is a symbol of victory over an enemy or trouble. Such a dream also means that you are intolerant of human weaknesses and will not put up with meanness, cowardice, hypocrisy.

Stroking a rat in a dream is a harbinger of trouble from a person whom you considered your friend and whom you trusted. A white rat in a dream is your hidden enemy.

See interpretation: animals, animals.

Skinning her in a dream means that you will be able to outwit an insidious enemy and profit at his expense. The main thing is that the skin does not tear in a dream, because this is the most valuable thing a rat has.

"You're a swindler, James Bolivar de Grise," growled Inskipp, viciously shaking a sheaf of papers in front of me.

I leaned against the closet in his office, feigning outraged virtue.

"I'm innocent," I sobbed. “I am the victim of a deliberate, cold, calculated lie.

Behind me was his cigar box, and I felt my way, being a great specialist in this matter, examined the castle.

“Theft, deceit, and worst of all, the reports keep coming in. You deceived your own organization, your Special Corps, your own comrades...

- Never! I shouted, working imperceptibly with a master key.

“They don’t call you Slippery Jim for nothing!”

- Misunderstanding! It's just a kid's name. Mom thought I was very slippery when she lathered me in the tub.

The box opened and my nose twitched at the scent of the fragrant leaves.

Do you know how much you stole? Inskipp was already turning purple and bulging his eyes.

- I? Stole? Yes, I would rather die! - I recited with pathos, extracting a handful of incredibly expensive cigars intended for the authorities. I'll find a better use for them - I'll smoke it myself.

I must admit that my attention was focused more on the stolen tobacco products than on Inskipp's tedious denunciations, so I did not immediately notice the change in his voice, but suddenly realized that I could barely hear him, which, however, was for the better. It wasn't that he spoke in a whisper - it was as if he had a volume control in his throat and someone turned the volume down sharply.

“Go on, Inskipp,” I said firmly. Or are you suddenly overcome with guilt over these false accusations?

I stepped sideways from the closet to hide the movement with which I dipped credit cards worth a hundred exotic cigars into my pocket. Inskipp, ignoring me, continued to mutter softly, now silently shaking the papers.

- Are you unwell? - I asked with almost sincere sympathy - he completely passed something.

Without turning his head after me, he continued to look at the place where I had just stood, and kept moving his lips. And very pale. I blinked and looked at him again.

He did not turn pale - he became transparent.

The back of a chair was clearly visible through his head.

- Stop it! I yelled, but he didn't seem to hear. What are these other games? Want to trick me with 3D projection? You're trying hard! Slippery Jim is not the type to be fooled, haha!

Walking quickly across the room, I reached out and pointed my forefinger at his forehead. The finger went inside with a slight resistance, and Inskipp seemed to have nothing against it. As soon as I pulled my hand away, there was a light pop, and he disappeared without a trace, and the papers, which there was no one to hold, fell on the table.

- Wow! - I squeezed out not too meaningfully and bent down to look for hidden equipment under the chair.

And then, with a disgusting crack, the office door was broken open.

Well, I understand this. I spun, still half-bent, and prepared to meet the first person to enter.

With the hard edge of my hand, I hit him in the throat, just under the gas mask. He gurgled and fell. But a lot of people broke in behind him, all in gas masks, in white coats, with black boxes behind their backs, some with improvised clubs. Everything is very strange. Under their onslaught, I retreated, but managed to go with one foot in the jaw, and knocked down another with a powerful blow to the solar plexus. Then they pushed me against the wall. I hit another one on the back of the head, he fell. And he disappeared before reaching the floor.

Interesting! The number of attackers now began to decrease rapidly, as those whom I hit disappeared. Our chances would be equal if other people in the same number did not appear out of the ground. I fought my way to the door, I didn't succeed. He got hit on the head with a club - they gave him, so to speak, on the brain.

After that, I fought in slow motion. Hit another one, but somehow without inspiration. They grabbed my arms and legs and dragged me out of the room. For the sake of order, I writhed and cursed them in half a dozen languages, but, you know, there was no result. I was carried out and dragged along the corridor to the elevator standing ready. One of the attackers took a box of his gas mask and, no matter how I turned away, fired a jet of gas into my face. I didn't feel anything, but I was overcome with anger. I kicked, gritted my teeth, and shouted insults. The masked men were mumbling something in response—irritated, I thought, and that only made my rage worse. When we reached our destination, I was ready to kill - and I am not easily driven to do so. And I would have killed, but they tied me to the electric chair and attached electrodes to my wrists and ankles.

“Tell them that Jim de Grise died like a man, dogs!” I shouted.

A metal helmet was lowered on my head, but before it covered my face, I managed to shout:

Long live the Special Corps! Long live…

It became dark, and I realized that an electric shock, brain destruction, death would follow.

However, nothing happened, the helmet was removed, someone again fired gas from a cylinder in my face, and I felt that the anger that had overcome me was passing as quickly as it had come. I blinked and saw that my arms and legs were free. Nearly everyone took off their masks, and I recognized them as scientists and Corps lab technicians working in this very lab.

"Will someone please explain to me what's going on here?"

“Let's finish one thing first,” said one of them, gray-haired, with yellowed teeth.

He hung a black box on my shoulder and pulled out a wire with a metal disk on the end. He attached the disc to the back of my head.

“You are Professor Coypu, right?

- Yes. The teeth moved up and down like piano keys.

"Won't you think me rude if I ask for an explanation?"

- Not at all. It's natural under the circumstances. I'm sorry we had to treat you like this. The only way to piss you off and keep you that way. A person obsessed with anger is focused only on himself and survives due to this. If we appealed to your reason, if we began to explain something to you, we would harm ourselves. So we attacked you. They treated you to the gas of anger, and they themselves inhaled it. The only way out. Oh shit, now Magistero. It even starts here.

The man in the white coat lit up, became transparent and disappeared.

“Inskipp also disappeared,” I said.

- Should have been expected. One of the first.

- Why? – stupidly smiling, I asked. Never had a more idiotic conversation in my life.

- Take over the Corps. First remove the leadership.

- I do not know.

I gritted my teeth, but restrained myself.

“Would you be so kind as to explain in more detail - or find someone more intelligent.

- I apologize. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and licked his dry lips. You see, everything happened so quickly. And action had to be taken urgently. The war of times, so to speak. Someone, somewhere, once intervened in the passage of time. Naturally, they should have chosen the Special Corps as their first target, no matter what other targets they had. Since the Corps is the most efficient, all-encompassing, transnational and interplanetary legal organization in the history of the galaxy, we automatically become the main obstacle in their path. Sooner or later, whatever their time ambitions, they will face the Corps. So they decided to end us first. With the Inskipp and the other leaders removed, the chances of the Corps functioning diminished, and we all vanished like poor Magistero.

I blinked.

"Couldn't you have a little drink?"

- Great idea, I'll join you.

The machine dispensed the vile green liquid to my liking, but I twirled the dial and ordered a double Sirian Panther Sweat and drank more than half in one gulp. This terrible drink, forbidden in most civilized worlds due to its vile effect on the body, only benefited me at that moment. I finished my glass, and a sudden memory popped up from the tangled depths of my subconscious.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't you ever read a lecture about the impossibility of time travel?"

- Certainly. My speciality. A smokescreen, so to speak. For us, they have long been possible. However, they were afraid to use it. Timelines change and all that. That is exactly what is happening now. But we had a long-term research plan. That's why we realized what it was when it all started. The alarm was raised, and we did not have time to warn anyone. And what's the point of warning? We knew what our duty was. Add that we are the only ones who can do anything. We have set up an emergency timer, we have created small portable devices around the laboratory - one of them is now on you.

– How does it work? I asked, gently touching the metal disc on the back of my head.

Steel Rat - 6

Chapter 1

James Bolivar di Gris - you are a fraud, - said Inskin. Sounds from his throat flew out some absolutely animals, while he viciously shook a folder of papers in front of me. It happened in his office, I stood leaning against the shelves - the very offended innocence.

I am not guilty. It's all cold calculated lies, I whimpered. There was a cigar compartment directly behind me, and I, with one back, without the help of my hands, groped for its lock - I am a master at such things.

Fraud, deceit, one worse than the other - reports on you are still coming in. You deceived your own organization, the Special Corps, your comrades...

No! - I cried, and at that time I quickly opened the lock.

They don't call you Slippery Jim for nothing!

So it's just a kid's name. When my mother bathed me as a child, I seemed very slippery to her.

At that moment, the cigarette box opened and I sniffed the most fragrant smell through my nose.

Do you know how much you stole? His face was flushed with blood and his eyes bulged. All this looked very unsympathetic.

I stole? Yes, I'll die better! I proclaimed pathetically, discreetly pulling out a handful of diabolically expensive cigars meant for very important people. I'd rather smoke them myself - it will be more correct. It must be admitted that I paid much more attention to the theft of the smoke than to Inskin's tedious reproaches, so I did not immediately notice the change in his voice. I suddenly realized that I could barely hear his words. He didn't even whisper - it was as if the volume control had been knocked out in his throat.

Speak louder, Inskin, I said firmly. - Or are you ashamed of your slander?

I stepped away from the cabinet and turned sideways to Inskin so that he wouldn't inadvertently see me stuffing a bunch of rare cigars worth at least a hundred credit cards into my pocket. He continued to mutter indistinctly, paying no attention to me and silently shaking the papers.

Are you unwell?

There was a bit of real concern in my voice, because now it looked really bad. Even when I changed my place, he did not turn his head and, moving his lips silently, continued to look at where I had stood before. And he was very pale. I closed my eyes and looked at him.

He was not pale at all - just transparent. The back of a chair became clearly visible through his head.

Stop it! I yelled, but he didn't seem to hear. - What are these things? 3D projections to fool me? And don't work! Slippery Jim is not the type to fool, haha!

Walking quickly across the room, I reached out and pointed my forefinger at his forehead. Overcoming a slight resistance, the finger went inside, but he did not seem to notice it. Only when I took my hand away, there was a faint pop, and Inskin disappeared completely. Only a sheaf of papers remained, which fell on the tabletop.

B-r-r-r! I muttered something unintelligible. Then he bent down and began to look under the chair for a hidden projector, but at that moment there was a nasty crack, and the office door flew off its hinges.

Well, I'm good at stuff like that. Still on all fours, I quickly turned around and just managed to meet the first person who entered. The edge of my palm cut into his throat, right under his gas mask. The man grunted and fell as if he had been knocked down. But after him, many more people burst in, all in the same masks and white coats, with small black satchels on their backs. Part - without weapons, part - with improvised batons. All this looked very unusual. Superior forces pushed me back into the depths of the room, but I managed to close up one with my foot, and got off the second with a blow in the gut.

I'm already completely confused about my favorites in this series! I have to think that this is it! As soon as the next book comes to replace, and I just shrug my shoulders in confusion.

In this part, our charming old acquaintance really saves the world. Saves from what is in principle not possible, even in the world of De Grizzly - from the distorter of history. From the mysterious Thoth (yes, this is the name of the villain) that, chopping up the past, destroys the future.

To say anything further is a disastrous business! Because here the plot has sold in earnest and is rushing like a hurricane. The only detail worth mentioning is that the action will take place on Earth, where James will jump through time like a grasshopper. In the usual style, briefly and fantastically, organically inscribing this into the plot, as he always does with serious and acute issues (in each, in each part there is something of its own, new, but invariably representing a serious problem in our society! Interesting , how many people pay attention to this nuance?), the author gently hints at the bleak future of our planet and makes you think, along the way, tasting the magnificent fruits of his labors, savoring them from the lines.

As I said, the plot not only gained momentum, it gallops like a frightened horse along an empty corridor (along an empty corridor because this is not a chaotic jump from side to side, but a bewitching, purposeful movement that blows everything in its path). The Dee Gris family is also growing up, once again it was not possible without Angelina, and oh my God, how I care for this team of Angela Jim! That sunk into my heart is a reckless family that complements each other!

And the way the book flew by ... Purely out of the deepest curiosity, I wonder - how many pages are there in the book? (reading in electronic form, and also in volumes - the volume of the work is difficult to estimate) I have never finished reading so quickly! I started reading yesterday in the morning, then it was a difficult, but generally pleasant, eventful day, when I did not touch the book, and started reading it again only in the evening. How long did it take me to read it? Hour? One and a half - the maximum!
Either it is incredibly small, or I got so carried away that I just flew through the pages, with the speed of the wind!

In any case, I will repeat again that these are the books that are really worth reading! Honestly, you won't regret it

Slippery Jim, his charming wife and other heroes of this creation again receive their well-deserved 10/10, and my inner strict and boring critic will cry because he again got nothing. I would like to tear and mark already, write mournfully that “here we have sank, alas,” or the author has cheated great, let the person be spiteful! So no, after all, and it is not even foreseen, what a hard fate!

• Harry Harrison

Harry Harrison

Steel Rat saves the world. Steel Rat needs you

Steel Rat saves the world

"You're a swindler, James Bolivar de Grise," growled Inskipp, viciously shaking a sheaf of papers in front of me.

I leaned against the closet in his office, feigning outraged virtue.

"I'm innocent," I sobbed. “I am the victim of a deliberate, cold, calculated lie.

Behind me was his cigar box, and I felt my way, being a great specialist in this matter, examined the castle.

“Theft, deceit, and worst of all, the reports keep coming in. You deceived your own organization, your Special Corps, your own comrades...

- Never! I shouted, working imperceptibly with a master key.

“They don’t call you Slippery Jim for nothing!”

- Misunderstanding! It's just a kid's name. Mom thought I was very slippery when she lathered me in the tub.

The box opened and my nose twitched at the scent of the fragrant leaves.

Do you know how much you stole? Inskipp was already turning purple and bulging his eyes.

- I? Stole? Yes, I would rather die! - I recited with pathos, extracting a handful of incredibly expensive cigars intended for the authorities. I'll find a better use for them - I'll smoke it myself.

I must admit that my attention was focused more on the stolen tobacco products than on Inskipp's tedious denunciations, so I did not immediately notice the change in his voice, but suddenly realized that I could barely hear him, which, however, was for the better. It wasn't that he spoke in a whisper - it was as if he had a volume control in his throat and someone turned the volume down sharply.

“Go on, Inskipp,” I said firmly. Or are you suddenly overcome with guilt over these false accusations?

I stepped sideways from the closet to hide the movement with which I dipped credit cards worth a hundred exotic cigars into my pocket. Inskipp, ignoring me, continued to mutter softly, now silently shaking the papers.

- Are you unwell? - I asked with almost sincere sympathy - he completely passed something.

Without turning his head after me, he continued to look at the place where I had just stood, and kept moving his lips. And very pale. I blinked and looked at him again.

He did not turn pale - he became transparent.

The back of a chair was clearly visible through his head.

- Stop it! I yelled, but he didn't seem to hear. What are these other games? Want to trick me with 3D projection? You're trying hard! Slippery Jim is not the type to be fooled, haha!

Walking quickly across the room, I reached out and pointed my forefinger at his forehead. The finger went inside with a slight resistance, and Inskipp seemed to have nothing against it. As soon as I pulled my hand away, there was a light pop, and he disappeared without a trace, and the papers, which there was no one to hold, fell on the table.

- Wow! - I squeezed out not too meaningfully and bent down to look for hidden equipment under the chair.

And then, with a disgusting crack, the office door was broken open.

Well, I understand this. I spun, still half-bent, and prepared to meet the first person to enter.

With the hard edge of my hand, I hit him in the throat, just under the gas mask. He gurgled and fell. But a lot of people broke in behind him, all in gas masks, in white coats, with black boxes behind their backs, some with improvised clubs. Everything is very strange. Under their onslaught, I retreated, but managed to go with one foot in the jaw, and knocked down another with a powerful blow to the solar plexus. Then they pushed me against the wall. I hit another one on the back of the head, he fell. And he disappeared before reaching the floor.

Interesting! The number of attackers now began to decrease rapidly, as those whom I hit disappeared. Our chances would be equal if other people in the same number did not appear out of the ground. I fought my way to the door, I didn't succeed. He got hit on the head with a club - they gave him, so to speak, on the brain.

After that, I fought in slow motion. Hit another one, but somehow without inspiration. They grabbed my arms and legs and dragged me out of the room. For the sake of order, I writhed and cursed them in half a dozen languages, but, you know, there was no result. I was carried out and dragged along the corridor to the elevator standing ready. One of the attackers took a box of his gas mask and, no matter how I turned away, fired a jet of gas into my face. I didn't feel anything, but I was overcome with anger. I kicked, gritted my teeth, and shouted insults. The masked men were mumbling something in response—irritated, I thought, and that only made my rage worse. When we reached our destination, I was ready to kill - and I am not easily driven to do so. And I would have killed, but they tied me to the electric chair and attached electrodes to my wrists and ankles.