First, I know most people couldn’t care less about others dreams. Second, I know dreams don’t mean anything.
I’m already forgetting many details and I am not a great storyteller in any case.
Disclosure: I have trouble sleeping and just started using Ambien.
In the dream, I get a call about a friends having a death in their family. I go to the hospital (I don’t know why) somehow I end up talking to this fossilized old man, not literally but he had to be a thousand. Somehow he decides to steal my body to sustain his unholy existence. Another poor decision, he doesn’t know where this body as been.
The scene shifts to struggling with three men holding hypodermics and again to me lying on a curb outside of a hospital with a needle in my back. Apparently I won the fight. Too bad I missed it.
As I’m laying on the curb I can feel myself fighting to stay alive but slowly shifting to giving up. I’m laying there telling myself there will be some sort of storybook rescue, then realizing that only happens in movies. After I accept that I’m going to die, I start trying to imagine the afterlife, contemplating the infinite, as it were. As I’m drifting into oblivion I hear my daughter calling my name. I wake up to our shared reality…
My daughter is STILL asleep. I’m forty-five years old and just awoke in terror.
On the plus side, I had a great night’s sleep and I feel more refreshed than I have in ages.
Thanks, Ambien. You f—ing bastards.