Thursday, December 18, 2008
The Mystical (or not so much) Dog Bite
Last night, I had a dream. I dreamt that I dreamt (yeah, sort of like a picture-in-picture TV, only better) that I was attacked by a wild dog. It bit my leg (and I obviously felt it, as usually), and just as I was preparing to react (one way or another -- not really sure how), I woke up in this big room, in this large bed, by myself. I looked at the bite, and it was there, which surprised me, thinking I'd dreamt the whole thing. I knew something was wrong (it looked nothing like my real bedroom), but then this expressionless doctor came in, with a pretty big, metalic, golden syringe, which had some sort of clockwork mechanism, and gave me a shot of whatever that was very quickly. Then a nurse came in, and told me they successfully "removed the scarred tissue", so now the bite looked more like a burnt scar. Then I blinked, and suddenly I wake up in this university (fully clothed -- thankfully I never got that cliché of dreaming I'm naked in an education facility), all made of wood, with a high ceiling. Looked more like a cathedral, except it was a university. You get it. So then my professors come out of nowhere and tell me I haven't been to class in ages.
By this time I felt like a male version of Alice in Wonderland high on LSD, but the thing is, I woke up for real this time, not knowing what to believe (you know what it's like after you've just woken up), and I don't even get to the point of feeling safely awake or anything, that I fall asleep again. Obviously, having a continuance of this dream (which I can't remember).
No more dynamite chocolate cake before bed.