Nightmare 1.17.2018
I go to my dialysis treatment, like I do every other day, like I have for the past four years. During this treatment, I am given a lunch break, which I spend sitting in my Jeep. Out of the woods behind the clinic, comes a man and a woman. The woman walks several steps behind the man. The man walks in a suspicious manner. Like he's been taking speed. The way in which he walks and the look of his face reminds me of someone I worked with several years ago. A man who unsettled me. A man whose cogs weren't all spinning at the same tempo. A man who openly told me that he beat his wife and laughed about it. No remorse appearing on his drugged face.
I watch the couple in the darkened parking lot walk past my Jeep and toward the McDonald's and gas station. Not long after that, I return to treatment. I can't help but acknowledge a creeping thought in my mind that I will see the man from the parking lot again. But this time in a more troubling fashion.
My seat in the clinic is facing a window to the outside. The window looks out to an apartment complex. The apartment building is very close to the clinic, only fifteen feet or so. Something dramatic is happening in one of the apartments. A small crowd gathers at the front door. Someone is having a medical emergency. I expect to see an ambulance at any time. My nurse has told me that I will have a short treatment today due to the holiday. I won't put up a fuss over that.
I see the man from the parking lot. He walks in front of a window in the clinic, puts a gun to his chin, aimed up and pulls the trigger. Everyone in the clinic witnesses his death. A new girl at the clinic walks near me and I tell her to take me off of the machine, to end my treatment. She tells me that she won't do that because I just started. This pisses me off because I know that I've been running for at least two hours and the nurse told me it would be a short treatment. I continue arguing with the new girl elevating my discourse to cussing. She refuses.
A police officer walks next to my chair, raises a shotgun at the patient behind me and shoots. I know I am next. Somehow, I manage to unhook myself from the machine and get free. I don't think I am shot. Dream ends.
I wake up
I go to my dialysis treatment, like I do every other day, like I have for the past four years. During this treatment, I am given a lunch break, which I spend sitting in my Jeep. Out of the woods behind the clinic, comes a man and a woman. The woman walks several steps behind the man. The man walks in a suspicious manner. Like he's been taking speed. The way in which he walks and the look of his face reminds me of someone I worked with several years ago. A man who unsettled me. A man whose cogs weren't all spinning at the same tempo. A man who openly told me that he beat his wife and laughed about it. No remorse appearing on his drugged face.
I watch the couple in the darkened parking lot walk past my Jeep and toward the McDonald's and gas station. Not long after that, I return to treatment. I can't help but acknowledge a creeping thought in my mind that I will see the man from the parking lot again. But this time in a more troubling fashion.
My seat in the clinic is facing a window to the outside. The window looks out to an apartment complex. The apartment building is very close to the clinic, only fifteen feet or so. Something dramatic is happening in one of the apartments. A small crowd gathers at the front door. Someone is having a medical emergency. I expect to see an ambulance at any time. My nurse has told me that I will have a short treatment today due to the holiday. I won't put up a fuss over that.
I see the man from the parking lot. He walks in front of a window in the clinic, puts a gun to his chin, aimed up and pulls the trigger. Everyone in the clinic witnesses his death. A new girl at the clinic walks near me and I tell her to take me off of the machine, to end my treatment. She tells me that she won't do that because I just started. This pisses me off because I know that I've been running for at least two hours and the nurse told me it would be a short treatment. I continue arguing with the new girl elevating my discourse to cussing. She refuses.
A police officer walks next to my chair, raises a shotgun at the patient behind me and shoots. I know I am next. Somehow, I manage to unhook myself from the machine and get free. I don't think I am shot. Dream ends.
I wake up
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