Weird Dreams

First Dream:

The tall building stood like a monument of aging stone. The pale granite looked dull beneath the sun, yet reflected the brilliant hues of the sunrise and sunset for a few minutes twice each day. It towered over the other factories, skyscrapers, and businesses like a mountain, projecting an undying shadow across the city. It's massive structure, a hospital, employed nearly a thousand people and had the bed capacity for three times that amount.

As I stared at it, I fought conflicting urges to go inside or run away. Even the stone lions at the entrance seemed to bare their teeth in a menacing way. But my grandfather was inside, and dying. Taking a deep breath, I marched to the customer service desk. A well-dressed, well-mannered woman pointed to an elevator and let me know that the Intensive Care Cardiac Unit (ICCU) was in the third sub-level basement. So, I took the elevator down into the gullet of the building.

When the doors opened, I stared down a long dimly lit corridor. Nurses and doctors hurried by, and no one seemed to take any real notice of me. Sporadic yellow lights hung from long bronze pedestals. The metal-shaded fixture, an elegant nod to the past, gave the state of the art hospital a nostalgic flair. The light diffused over each area with intermittent darkness on each side. Near the nurses desk, I found a rectangular board that revealed the blueprint of the ICCU and listed the names and location of all of the patients. I found my grandfather's name and tried to memorize the floor plan. I set off at a jog, passing dozens upon dozens of beds. People cried and moaned; and bright flashing lights indicated severity of their condition. At each junction of corridors, a "crash cart" waited for the next emergency.

As I reached my destination, I was relieved to find a nurse leaning over the bed. I waited, noticing suddenly that the monitors were turned off. As I stepped further into the door, I realized that the bed was empty, and that it wasn't a nurse, but a janitor. She shrugged a new sheet onto the bed. I thought that perhaps I had the wrong room, until I saw the nameplate on the wall still listed the name "Clarence Borgens".

"Is he dead?" I asked.

The janitor simply shrugged her shoulders. But I knew, I was too late. I rushed into the corridor again, pushing and shoving my way past the people there. I was sobbing and I didn't care who saw this rare display of emotion.

Dream Two:

I lived in Phoenix again, and was attending school...again. I lived near the downtown district that looked nothing like I remembered. Town homes and buildings gave a New York City appearance, and people and vehicles flooded the streets and sidewalks. My modest home was in an approved livestock zone, meaning that I was allowed to keep a horse there. My backyard was nothing but sand, and at the end of it, a nice looking barn had white walls and red shutters. Behind me, a tall skyscraper, The Arizona Center, kept the area shaded most of the day. My roommate, Elisha, had offered to feed my horse, Tonka, as class was keeping me late. And her son, Nikko, was supposed to catch the bus home with me later that evening.

Dream Three:

A car pulled into the handicap spot at the emergency animal hospital. I watched a man drag his Rottweiler from the back seat and flop him down on the pavement, unable to carry him further. From the front window, I couldn't tell if the dog was breathing. I immediately paged for a technician and a gurney.

Misti answered my call, and whipped through the building and out the "check out" door. I held it open a few minutes later as she pulled the dog back through. I attempted to stop the owner so I could get a little information from him, especially since owners were not allowed beyond the treatment doors. When I handed the man a clipboard, he threw it back at me, and then punched me in the face. The force of impact sent me careening into a wall, and as I fell to the floor, I noticed that the lobby had become completely silent, although no one had moved to help me.