I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately that I’m remembering. This is fairly unusual for me. I generally DON’T remember my dreams, but lately there have been a few that have stuck in my head.
Sometimes, they are amusing, like the one about being at a co-workers house as she was going through her closet looking for the right pair of shoes for whatever occasion she was attending. She handed me a pair of red, strappy heels and said, “Put these on. Now.” I said they wouldn’t fit me and she said, “Put them on or get the fuck out.” And so I put them on. That was the extent of my dream.
Eroticism made an entrance as well in the one about an Italian I was on a blind date with, who said he could not have sex on the first date, but asked if he could pleasure me with his hands and his tongue. I said yes, and mid-pleasuring he announced, “I just can’t do this” and jumped out the open window, and ran down the street.
Then, there was the one last night. I can’t categorize it. <Begin dream sequence here>
I was at the gynecologist for my yearly crotch spreading and boob fondle. He completed my exam, like normal and then looked up and said, “I think I want to take out your ovaries. I don’t like them.”
I looked at him and asked about being on blood thinners and he said he could give me a shot to close off blood vessels in the area he’d need to open so that everything would be fine. I asked him how long the surgery was, when I would need to have it and how long I’d need to recover.
He moved behind me and said, “Kim. It takes about 5 minutes, I’m going to do it now and you’ll need about 3 minutes to recover.”
“Will I need general anesthesia? Who will drive me home?”
“No, you don’t even need a local. I have perfected a new technique. You may feel a slight stinging sensation followed by intense cold, but it’s not very painful at all.”
“OK,” I said. He was still behind me and said, “I’m going to make my incision now. You may feel some stinging.” It felt like he was scratching my back in the shape of a house – straight up and down sides, pointy triangle top. He didn’t draw the bottom of the house. He basically created a flap of skin out of my entire back. It stung a little, but not bad. “Are you ready for the cold?”
“You may feel some slight tugging at your skin as well.” Then, he grabbed the pointy top of the “house” and pulled the skin down. Have you ever had one of those packages of cookies that you peel open on the top and then reseal? That’s what the flap he cut reminded me of. There was no blood, but I could see the inside of my back in a mirror and I said to him, “Wow! That looks like a giant beef roast!”
His response? “More like leg of lamb.”
We both laughed as his hands and forearms disappeared into my back. “All done!” he announced and laid two roundish blobs on the silver metal tray that was next to the table. Then he said, “Here’s the best part. I just press and seal!” He ran his fingers around the edges of my self-sealing incisions.
I put on my shirt and left.
As I was riding home, I called up Jerry to tell him what had just happened, only it was me dialing into a party line with about 15 other people. The only thing I could say was, “my back is kind of burning and I have to pee. Should I see if I’m on fire?”
The entire party-line responded in unison: “Partly sunny, with a high of 42. It’s 5:43…”
Yup, my alarm went off and ruined the whole thing. Damn alarms. Damn work. Damn odd dream.