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...were it not that i have bad dreams
Dec. 8th, 2003 09:47 ami was at my parents' house, and my brother was also there with a bunch of his friends, including one whose parents gave him such a huge allowance that he could afford to buy a lot of expensive gifts for his friends. so my brother and his friends were pretty much running amok through the house, and i was in my room chilling and wondering why the top of my head hurt, and i reached up and found a big chunk of plywood sticking out of my head. i couldn't remember how it had happened, no matter how hard i tried.
i pulled out the plywood, and suddenly i was gushing blood everywhere. i grabbed a folded-up blanket and held it to my head. i went upstairs to my mom's room, where she didn't take me seriously until i tossed the blanket at her, which was now completely saturated with blood. then she started screaming that i had to go to the hospital. i told her i couldn't because i had no insurance, and it would be cheaper to just call my regular doctor.
i called the doctor, but there was so much noise in the house i couldn't hear what the receptionist was saying on the phone, so i hung up in disgust. then i noticed some parquet floor tiles sitting on a table, one of which was missing a chunk about the size of the one i found in my head. my brother and a couple of his friends started giggling, and i demanded to know who was responsible. finally they told me that one of his friends had thrown it at me earlier, and i went to eject said friend from the house.
when i told him he was never welcome in my house again, he laughed at me, so i had to physically throw him out. then i realized my head was still bleeding, so i tried to call the doctor again since the room i was in was quieter -- but as soon as i called, my brother and all his friends came in and started making noise again, and then my mother came in and started yelling at me about going to the ER, so i still couldn't hear the doctor. at this point i was feeling really lightheaded and weak, and i was starting to worry about blood loss. i'd also become convinced that my brother's rich friend wasn't getting money from his parents, but was actually a drug dealer, so i went to find him and kick him out of the house too.
i hiked around the yard a while but couldn't locate him, and i was starting to have blackouts, so finally i decided to just go to the doctor's office myself. when i got there, the receptionist said my doctor could see me in a couple of hours. i sat down to wait. the waiting room was very stylish and modern, and all the magazines were boring rich-intellectual magazines about yachting or finance. one of the other doctors was in the waiting room, but he seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that i was bleeding to death from a head wound right there, because he had some sort of cardboard standup with a cartoon version of himself enumerating his experience (there was one for each doctor) and he was trying to place it for maximum exposure. he finally settled on a spot near the glass coffee table and left.
i passed out right about the time i woke up.
the weirdest thing about this dream is that my mother was the least villainous of the piece.
i pulled out the plywood, and suddenly i was gushing blood everywhere. i grabbed a folded-up blanket and held it to my head. i went upstairs to my mom's room, where she didn't take me seriously until i tossed the blanket at her, which was now completely saturated with blood. then she started screaming that i had to go to the hospital. i told her i couldn't because i had no insurance, and it would be cheaper to just call my regular doctor.
i called the doctor, but there was so much noise in the house i couldn't hear what the receptionist was saying on the phone, so i hung up in disgust. then i noticed some parquet floor tiles sitting on a table, one of which was missing a chunk about the size of the one i found in my head. my brother and a couple of his friends started giggling, and i demanded to know who was responsible. finally they told me that one of his friends had thrown it at me earlier, and i went to eject said friend from the house.
when i told him he was never welcome in my house again, he laughed at me, so i had to physically throw him out. then i realized my head was still bleeding, so i tried to call the doctor again since the room i was in was quieter -- but as soon as i called, my brother and all his friends came in and started making noise again, and then my mother came in and started yelling at me about going to the ER, so i still couldn't hear the doctor. at this point i was feeling really lightheaded and weak, and i was starting to worry about blood loss. i'd also become convinced that my brother's rich friend wasn't getting money from his parents, but was actually a drug dealer, so i went to find him and kick him out of the house too.
i hiked around the yard a while but couldn't locate him, and i was starting to have blackouts, so finally i decided to just go to the doctor's office myself. when i got there, the receptionist said my doctor could see me in a couple of hours. i sat down to wait. the waiting room was very stylish and modern, and all the magazines were boring rich-intellectual magazines about yachting or finance. one of the other doctors was in the waiting room, but he seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that i was bleeding to death from a head wound right there, because he had some sort of cardboard standup with a cartoon version of himself enumerating his experience (there was one for each doctor) and he was trying to place it for maximum exposure. he finally settled on a spot near the glass coffee table and left.
i passed out right about the time i woke up.
the weirdest thing about this dream is that my mother was the least villainous of the piece.
