Logical Dreamscape (4)

July 20th, 2010

I am getting very worried about my present state of mind…

It’s mid-afternoon and I’m going to a party with a friend (no idea who it was). This wasn’t just any party though it was a party being held by tiny guitar genius Prince. It is being held in a huge hall however on the inside it’s not very grandiose; instead it retains the look of a simple working men’s club with aisles of seats, various rooms and a bar on the side. I pull up to the bar for a drink and for some reason there is a rumour spread that you can’t stay at the party unless Prince’s personal physician has checked you out to make sure you’re not ill and won’t pass any illnesses onto him. This seems very strange but my reasoning is that, “this is Prince, not just anyone. I’ll take a quick once over from a quack for an all night drinking sesh.” Something along those loins, lines, lions, lines.

People keep going into a room at the back with a nurse and coming out smiling. I get the impression I’m missing out on something. The strange thing is that we’ve hardly seen Prince at all other than a man, who could have been Prince, standing at the far end of the room on his mobile dressed in a purple suit. Everyone seems to go in before I do and I’m getting pretty nervous as people are starting to leave. I get tapped on the shoulder by a nurse who leads me into a tiny room filled with stacks of chairs and a man in a white coat.

I lie down, he checks me over and does a few initial inspections; no problems. Then he puts some sort of machine over me and examines my inside, which are relatively fine, except for some gunk here and there. The doctor uses a gauze and what looks like a cloth to clean my ribs at the back. It tickles a little. I get no attention whatsoever from any of the nurses, as a few more have appeared since I arrived.

The doctor pats me on the back and tells me everything is fine. I leave the room too with a smile on my face but something doesn’t feel right. Looking down underneath my t-shirt there is a line of huge, awful, bloody vertical stitches stretching from my chest down to my pelvis. Then I wake up.

Entry Filed under: Bedtime stories