OIL!

Dream 8/27/2017

I am a fisherman. My friend Tim, the captain of this fine ship, is taking the fishing vessel back to harbor. When we get there, I see my dad and my uncle standing on shore. He has come to pick me up from work. Before the boat comes to a complete stop, I jump onto the dock but notice that I am attached to a chain on the boat. I quickly jump back onto the boat to unchain myself. It takes a very long time.

The next thing I remember is waking up underground. Something big has happened but I am not sure of what. At some points underground I am being carried and at other points I am walking on my own. One thing is for sure, I was in some sort of accident. I overhear my mom say that my uncle and cousin were killed while looking into a well of oil. The experience was too much for them to handle. My mom laughs while telling me this.

I am brought to a hospital which is on a train. I feel like I am dying. The nurses start me on an IV and I begin to feel drowsy.

I wake up on the moving train but I am the only person on board. Somehow, I am given information. Maybe I've heard it on a radio or TV. The information is this. Downtown, a large oil geyser has erupted. Oil is shooting about thirty stories into the sky. Fire has come into contact with the geyser and set it ablaze. When I hear this information, I look out the window. Across the cityscape, I can see the geyser. It is so big. It takes my breath from me. What a sight to see.

The oil and fire are shooting fire balls randomly across the city. I stand at the back of the train and notice the balls of fire are inching their way toward me. One hits so close I can feel the heat. I know the next one will hit the train. I fall to the floor and curl up under a seat. The fire ball never hits. Dream ends

I wake up

Dialysis Nightmare

Dream 7-17-14

  Walking into the building, I notice a lovely fountain in the middle of the room, the open lobby spans from the first floor to the fourth. The stairs spiral all the way up much like a Frank Lloyd Wright design. The Dialysis floor is one floor down, in the basement. I wait for my turn. The nurse tells me that I am in the wrong clinic. "But this is the dialysis clinic?" I say. She tells me that it is one of two, the other is on the top floor and it's the bad clinic. I wonder what she meant by "bad clinic."

     I walk the stairs to the fourth floor. When I enter the clinic, I find a line of people, a lot of people, waiting for their treatment. Their are only two nurses and two seats. About fifteen people wait four hours for each patient to finish dialyzing. When it is finally my turn, which is days, I sit in the seat and wait to be stuck by the needle. The nurses are usually very gentle and make the process as painless as possible. Today is different. Different nurses, different technique. The nurse takes the needle (which is the size of of crochet needle) and stabs it into my arm. I let out a scream. She misses the fistula. She yanks the needle out of my arm, raises it above her head and brings it down into my arm once again. She misses once more. Dream ends.

I wake up.