Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 3/16/2026
By randybobandy
I was in the backseat of my grandma’s car while she was driving on Route 8. I was talking about horror movies and she started explaining why she didn’t like the genre. But she stopped mid-sentence. It was silent for a second while I waited for her to continue speaking. Then a car next to us honked and I noticed we were drifting into its lane. I jumped up towards my grandma to look at her. She was slumped over, unconscious. I grabbed the wheel to try to maintain our lane. I looked around and to our right was a school bus. The driver was looking at me. I yelled “HELP! HELP! HELP!” hoping they could read my lips and see that a driver was having a medical episode. I hoped they would call 911 at least. My grandma was not pressing on the accelerator so the car was slowly slowing down. But since we were on the highway this was causing dangerous traffic and a lot of people were honking. I was able to cut across over onto an exit ramp. I tried to pull over on the shoulder there. The chaos caused someone to slam into the back of our car at a high speed. The intensity of the crash somehow launched my grandma out of the car and onto the ground. I screamed and ran out to her. She had landed in an area with dirty puddles and mud. She was completely covered in mud. I picked her up and carried her to an emergency room. My brother Andrew and one of his friends showed up to help but in effect were completely useless. I kept asking them to hold my water bottle and my phone since I was carrying Grandma, but they kept dropping everything. She was now wrapped in a sheet. I kept reaching in and feeling her pulse to make sure she was still alive. We finally checked in after waiting in a long line. In the waiting room I kept asking Andrew and his friend to hold Grandma so I could check the time on my phone. Half an hour went by. They accidentally dropped her on the floor. I screamed and collapsed to the floor to get her back up. The drop caused her head to twist in an unnatural angle. I gently moved her head back and felt her pulse again. She was still alive. I was about to complain to staff about the wait time when I checked my phone again to see I had received a text stating “Dr. John Pigeon will see you now.” I recognized the name, he was coincidentally my new doctor who had scheduled my first appointment with me next week. We all started looking for his office. Every office had a name plaque at the top but we couldn’t find his. We went up some stairs and found a huge bustling lobby, built to resemble Grand Central Station. Instead of the doors saying what tracks were there, they had doctor’s names. Right at the entrance was a list of about 8 doctors. Dr. Pigeon was not on there. Doctors kept walking by, seeing our situation, and offering to help. “I’ll take her!” they said. “No, she already has a doctor!” I yelled. Eventually I got fed up and yelled, “No, she is supposed to see Dr. John Pigeon, not you!” The lobby got quiet. A receptionist said, “Dr. Pigeon’s office is right there…” She pronounced it ‘Pij-ay-OHn’ while I had pronounced it like the bird. I looked where she was motioning and saw his office door up some stairs. “Well, his name wasn’t on the list at the front, that’s why,” I tried to explain. Everyone continued silently looking at me with judgment. We headed into his office. It was like a carnival fun house but worse inside. I realized he was some kind of brain doctor who was obsessed with horror. Every room was a maze that contained optical illusions and other tricks. At some point I got accidentally separated from Andrew and his friend. I came to a never-ending maze room, a kitchen turned into a living room turned into another kitchen turned into another living room, and it just kept going. I felt my grandma’s pulse and it was extremely weak and barely there. I screamed in rage “Please stop this! My grandma is dying! This is cruel and unnecessary why can’t anyone just help her!” A man’s voice boomed from somewhere out of sight: “I don’t see any grandma. I’ve only seen three teenagers running around lost in grief and unwilling to accept what really happened.” The room began to change and put me back into my grandma’s car. I pulled over onto the shoulder on the off ramp. We got slammed in the back by someone else and my grandma got propelled into the mud. She was instantly dead. I had just refused to accept it.