dreams within dreams

To sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause...—Hamlet, William Shakespeare

On some level I knew I was dreaming. I was back at work in my office but outside, alarms were going off at a nurses' station and medical professionals were racing down the hall. I leapt up and gave pursuit, bursting in to one of the other offices that, instead of a desk and a computer, held an unconscious B13 in a hospital bed, hooked up to a monitor. As he flatlined, my supervisor casually walked in and asked what the situation was. He was very calm about everything, readying paddles and throwing out a lot of medical jargon my subconscious had absorbed from ER or Scrubs.

“CLEAR!”

It took two shots to get a rhythm, and then he was out of danger. Relieved, I headed back down the hall where a tropical bar was set up outside my office. I ordered a beer as my boss walked by, cleaning his hands.

“Your buddy's a little young for a heart attack,” he asked matter-of-factly, “Is he fat?”

Not thinking anything strange about the sudden medical expertise of a writer, or his choice of words, I simply responded. “Nah, not really. A little overweight I guess, almost like me. He doesn't eat right.”

Just then, the guy sitting next to me at the bar ordered a bacon cheeseburger with extra onion rings, and I woke up.

* * * * *

I checked my cell phone, charging next to my bed. I was meeting B13 and some other friends for a double feature of Sweeney Todd and AvP: Requiem, but I still had a few hours before I had to meet them. I debated whether or not to get another hour's sleep and see what dreams might form next.

* * * * *

Instead, I got up and ventured in to the living room. My dad and my uncle were sitting around, the former reading the newspaper while the latter sort of stared into space. I told them about my dream and my boss saving B13's life, then asked if they were using the television or if I could watch my cartoons. Rewinding while in “play” mode so I could see if I'd taped reruns or new episodes, I found explicit videos of girls going wild in locker rooms, showers, and other settings. My family didn't seem to notice, and I hit “stop” and proceeded to rewind even further, confused at why and how I'd taped softcore porn and not Saturday morning animation. Every once in a while I'd stop and check, and each time I'd find the contents of the tape to be the same. At this point, my mom walked in to the kitchen to get breakfast, so I ejected the tape and headed in to the den.

There's no VCR in the den, only a small color television with rabbit ears. I checked what shows were airing, and every station seemed to contain the same explicit content. I wondered if I'd messed something up trying to install the DVD player I bought my folks for Christmas. I suppose there were worse consequences, but sooner or later someone other than myself was going to turn on a television, and they weren't going to be happy.

I headed in to the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal and think about my dilemma. I started telling my folks about the dream, though I found I was confusing parts of it and said Curt was the doctor who saved B13. When I got to the part about the bar, I spoke about my boss then realized I'd initially said Curt was the one with the paddles. I corrected my earlier mistake just as Curt shuffled out of our hallway, through the kitchen and on to the living room.

My parents went about their business, not noticing the houseguest with disheveled hair wandering around in a bathrobe and slippers. I watched him check the TV listings, but he didn't turn on our television. I turned to wipe out a cereal bowl when he was suddenly standing right next to me.

“Hey man...can I borrow a cereal bowl?”

“Uh...sure,” I said, reaching for the stack. I held it out to him, noting that my parents were gone and that he was just staring past me at the wall.

“You should leave.” he said in a monotone. “You should go out into the desert, and find water.”

Before I could ask for clarification, an argument broke out in the other room.

“Did you call him??”

“WHAT?”

I said, ‘DID YOU CALL HIM?' What time did he want to get up?”

“I don't know. I think he said 10.”

“Are you sure? I better check.”

“[MCF]? What time did you need to get up. [MCF]??”

* * * * *

I opened my eyes at the persistent, nagging tone of my mom. Reaching for my cell phone, I saw that I'd fallen back asleep. I never woke up and told my parents about the first dream. Our antenna wasn't picking up adult programs, my uncle had left the night before, and Curt certainly wasn't living with us or making inexplicable statements while zoning out into a trance. My mom closed the door when I confirmed that I didn't want to get up until 10, but I was up already. I staggered out into the kitchen and told them about the first dream only, then quickly typed up the following so I'd remember later on:

dreaoffice
hospitalroom
b13 crashed
boss relaxed
clear! clear!
worried in hall
rhthym
bar down the hall
boss says ge fat
i say he dont eat right
dude next to me orders bacon cheeburger

wake up
tell dad and uncle
rewind tape of cartoon
explicit ggw not turtles
move to den
on ch 3 while rewinding
mom gets up
turn off tv
go in kitchen tell parents about joe dream
mix it up say curt doc
curt walks thru kitchen bedraggled
checks paper and tv
cmes in kitchen and asks for ceeal bowl
in trance”you shuld go
go out to the dessert
go to the desert and find water
mcf wat time do you want to get up
am i still dreaming?

I decided to save that “outline” and not edit it since it shows how weird my mind is when I'm barely awake. As for B13, my phone rang while I was driving to the movies and once I had a chance to check, found a voicemail explaining that he wouldn't be joining us because his stomach was “rotten”. It's not a heart attack, thank God, but it is interesting that my dream self previously made a (hypocritical) comment about his eating habits. Precognition? Or haven’t I woken up yet?

And seriously, what the heck was Curt trying to tell me about finding water in the desert? I can trace most elements of the dream to things that might have been on my mind, but that's probably the biggest mystery of them all...