Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 4/21/2024
By Purple
In my dream, it was my birthday. I was living back home in the Bronx. I was throwing a party, with the possibility of some friends sleeping over. But I didn’t have enough beds or bedding and forgot to tell them to bring sleeping bags. People were showing up (many from college days), and I was grateful. They knew about my procedure and said they’ll wait. Mike and Trish were going to spend the night at a nearby hotel. I’m glad they foresaw that option; fewer people to put up for the night. The timing was strange, too, because I had to go to the hospital and get a bunch of testing done. The doctor gave me four bunches of stuff I needed to pass along to those other doctors to use for the tests. I had a hard time holding them all and then had a hard time keeping them in the proper order. Those bunches of stuff looked like garlic cloves of various sizes, but mostly large. Suddenly, I saw Andrea there, taking similar tests. She had way more than me to take. She seemed to be accepting of this as her fate. She was in a hospital bed, so clearly she was going to be there for a while. We wished each other well, before we went out separate ways. The doctor was pissed I couldn’t remember which bunch was to get tested first. But then he gave me a hoodie to wear and filled the two pockets with the four sets, saying it was okay that they were separated this way, too. A man with a covid mask asked me for my personal information to get it for insurance purposes. After the testing was done, I was wheeled back out to a waiting to exit area in the hospital. I had a hard time walking in the rolling contraption, so I was told to just keep me feet up on the metal part by the floor. While waiting for my name to be called before exiting, other names were being called and people started waiting in line. I waited in line, too, but my name was never called. One lady accidentally spilled the random contents of her bag. Most of us helped her gather those items and gave them back to her. The line moved along. My name wasn’t called yet. The lady asked what was my name and then saw my paperwork. She asked where were my instructions. I said I didn’t have any. Then another woman came rushing in, calling my name. She handed me those instructions with my initials someone that written, in script, on the outside. The sheet was half of a letter size, so it was 8.5 x 5.5. As I was leaving, I saw my name somewhere else. Somehow my ID was leaning up on a chair. I grabbed it as I was walking out the door. The outside of the hospital looked like a scene from riding the MetroNorth train upstate. It was picturesque. It was a long ride home and as I was walking toward public transit, I mentally weighed the pros and cons of treating myself to a cab. Dream ends.