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Graffiti @ 2nd & 2nd, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

Here’s my Nightmare du Jour - My dream this morning started with me waking up in bed, so I really had no idea I was dreaming. I got up and LCF sat up too and put a hand on my belly and said he was worried. He said he read that if you sleep too much on your stomach, you can get tumors, and that he said he could feel tumors when he touched my stomach, so he wanted to take me to the hospital. We got dressed and walked to the nearest hospital, and when I got there the ER was in chaos, but in the masses of people I saw my mom walking around with a clipboard. I ran over to her and tried to tell her what was wrong, and how scared I was, but she said she was too busy working at her new job in the hospital to talk and walked away. I turned and saw my dad sitting at a nearby table waiting for my mom to get off work, so I tried to tell him what was wrong, but he just said that I should tell my mom. Then I went to the triage nurse and told her what was wrong, and when I told her my name, she said she knew my mom so she would bump me to the front of the line. I had to wait outside in the cold for them to call my name because the ER was too full, and when I looked around, I saw that I was surrounded by pregnant teenage girls, standing around shivering, so I was suddenly afraid that I was pregnant too and didn’t know it. When they called my name, a lady doctor led me over to a weird contraption that was a treadmill on the bottom and a red metal photo booth on top. She made me get on and start running much faster than I felt comfortable with. Through my panting and wheezing, I tried to tell her that I was there because I thought I had tumors, or might be pregnant, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She just kept staring at the little slot in the photo booth waiting for some kind of results to pop out. After a few minutes of me running, a whole bunch of pictures started popping out of the slot - pictures of friends and lovers and babies, people I had never seen before in my life, kept popping out of the photo booth slot as I ran. The doctor examined each picture and shook her head, saying “This isn’t right.” I tried to tell her that I couldn’t run any more, and that I couldn’t breathe, but when I tried no words came out. Then I passed out. When I woke up, I was really waking up in my bed, out of breath and covered in sweat.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 20th, 2006 at 3:54 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.