I so rarely have dreams, cuz I don’t sleep much. In fact, I think I’ve had only one or two dreams since the beginning of the year. But today during the day while I was sleeping I had a dream that was absolutely screamingly funny. It ended as a nightmare, which was not so good, but then, after I got done with the waking up scared part I burst into laughter realizing that the dream was in fact ridiculously long. I said to myself that there must be a story in this somewhere. Or a joke.
Or no, just something to share with other folks to get them to laugh along with me. Cuz if you rarely dream, it’s truly terrific to get a decent one when you do get one, right?
So here’s the dream: I get a knock on the door. Uh-oh. Who is this jerk knocking on my door? I open it up. Puzzle’s barking her fool head off cuz here’s a stranger at my door. I tell her relax, it isn’t an ambulance to come take me away, and I’m not being “sectioned,” so not to worry. But would you believe it’s a doctor? Yeah, a male doctor with an ID badge and a stethoscope around his neck. I don’t recall a lab coat and I don’t recall what the ID badge said except it did indicate he was a doctor, an MD. Of course, anyone can have a badge made up and anyone can buy a stethoscope and pretend to be a doctor, but never mind that, it’s irrelevant. He had “that look” of someone that had sat through way, way too many lectures at medical school, seen a few too many cadavers, but what the hell was he doing at my house? I don’t have any money. If he’s a drug dealer on the side, I’m not interested. But I let him in.
“What’s up, doc?”
“I’m here to take your blood pressure.”
Now this is gonna be weird, like it often is for us folks with anorexia, cuz (in case you don’t know) we are skinny and we got skinny arms, so the blood pressure thing is often an ordeal and a half cuz they need to use a child-size cuff. It’s also a huge deal if you are anorexic and then gain weight and you don’t got those skinny arms anymore. It’s like you mourn the loss. You mourn the loss of that identity. It’s incredibly painful. Hard to explain unless you’ve been there. Some people think my skinny arms are gross. I always put something over me when I walk out in the hall so my neighbors don’t start talking (trust me, they are elderly and clueless and I don’t even know their names), especially right now cuz my weight is down.
So anyway, he whips out the blood pressure cuff. I’m about to slip off the little jacket I have on, but then he stops me, cuz now, he’s not gonna put the cuff around my arm, he’s gonna put it around my waist.
Yep, he’s taking my blood pressure by putting the blood pressure cuff around my waist.
I warned you this was a weird dream. It gets weirder.
So now, he plugs the other end of the tube into a cell phone. So the cuff is around my waist and then there’s a long tube and the tube is plugged into a cell phone.
But then I stop him. “Wait,” I say. “Doc, you got the wrong cell phone. That’s my cell phone. It won’t work. It’s a welfare cell phone. You know, the budget type. Use your own.”
But no, he insists that he’s got the right cell phone and he uses mine. Suddenly, my cell phone lights up all sorts of fancy pictures that no welfare cell phone is capable of doing. There’s no way Assurance Wireless is gonna give us welfare cases all that for free.
Really, folks, this must be the space age.
But it’s all a trick on me. This doctor has in fact put the cuff around my waist as a ploy. He really intended to do it so that he could find out how much I weighed. So what does he do? He lifts up the tube, which then lifts me up by the cuff around my waist. He’s weighing me! Oh my god! There’s no actual scale, he just lifts me up and my weight shows up on the cell phone somehow. My only consolation is the fact that he’s able to lift me with one arm. So really, I tell myself, I couldn’t be that fat, right?
Then, he takes off. But he leaves his own cell phone behind. I tell myself I gotta do something about this. I try to dial his cell phone but the buttons disappear right while I’m pushing them. Especially the SEND button. Even when I try to dial the suicide hotline, all the buttons on his cell phone disappear.
Never mind that my own cell phone is safely in my pocket, where it always is, and is back to normal, no longer space agey. That’s irrelevant. My object now is to go to church and bring the doctor’s cell phone with me and give this cell phone to someone. I have no clue who should get the cell phone, but I gotta get it to church. So suddenly it’s automatically Sunday and off I go.
And there I am. In a room with a group of people. It must be social hour, which happens after the church service. My brother the atheist says that’s the good thing about the Unitarian Universalists, they have coffee and food after the service, and lots of potlucks.
So there are a lot of people in the room. I have this doctor’s weird, weird cell phone in my hand. But then, there’s this guy I’ve seen before there, or maybe I haven’t seen him before, I don’t know if I’ve ever talked to him or not, and suddenly he’s got his hand on me, never mind where on me, but he’s got his hand on my naked skin, and his shirt is up and his belly is exposed. And then he reaches and he’s about to grab me with his other hand, his hand is looming above me, coming closer and closer.
I wake up with my heart pounding like mad. I’m in a crazy sweat, too. It’s light out. I realize I’ve had a nightmare, or shall I say daymare, cuz it sure ain’t night. It takes forever for my heart to stop its pounding.
I open the window wide. Tear my shirt off cuz I’m still sweating and overheated. Puzzle has jumped off the bed, startled, but I call her back and hold her tight and we lay together for a while.
At first, all I can recall about the dream is the part about the man and his hands. Then, all the rest comes back to me. I laugh and laugh and laugh. I cry, too, and laugh some more. I tell myself that my friends with ED especially are gonna get a good kick outa this one.