Cause Dreamin' Can Make You Mine

Last night's dreaming event went a little something like this:

I was in an underground parking garage with Lorena who for some reason now has a car and still no license? Riiiight. It turns out to be quite a beater of a car and in order to get it out of the parking space, we don't bother to start it, we just start pushing and manoeuvring it out of it's spot trying not to hit the other nearby parked cars.

We hear some sort of commotion heading our way and there are three thugs giving a couple of guys some grief. It seems like they maybe have it coming, like a deal gone bad or something. The three are holding guns on the two. In order to avoid getting caught up in this, we move to a corner of the parking garage. Lorena is in the corner, there's another person with us and I see an overturned blue Rubbermaid storage container. Figuring that I'll be safest if I just flop my sorry self over this tub in plain sight, I do.

They shoot their people and then the bad guys come over to us. There's a moment when I start to wonder how I'm going to escape this and before the solution comes to me, bang, I get shot in the back. I was so shocked by this and definitely felt a jolt if not pain. So I stayed put and pretended to be dead while they shoot my other 2 friends. They leave. The bad guys, not my friends.

After a suitable time has passed, I get up, pay absolutely no mind to my friends and start looking for a towel or something to act as tourniquet so I don't bleed to death which is what TV tells me will happen.

The wound in my back which I can somehow see is not really bleeding much, just a freaky round indent in my skin maybe the size of a penny. There is also a mark on my front chest where the bullet tried to escape but didn't. I do find a towel and wrap it over, under and around with little difficulty. There are always plenty of clean towels in the parking garages of my dreams.

Bye friends! I then make it home to some strange apartment and lay down to rest on the floor. I check the wound and it has bled enough to know I need to get some medical attention. So rather than call an ambulance or 9-1-1, I call John at work.

I sense that this is now California and he's working in some security officer type situation. I can't get through to him but I'm able to get a pager number for him. I get this all confused and can't reach anyone and then I have to call this dispatcher guy back. I never do speak to John.

But then of course, he's there in the apartment. He's picking up and straightening things and not paying much attention to me, the walking wounded. I'm walking around behind him with no shirt on and a crummy too small towel trying to stem the flow of blood and he doesn't seem to notice I've been shot. Hellooo?!

I don't know how to go about telling him so I just sort of say, I've been shot. And he's like what? but with no real alarm raised. And I'm like -- the alarm goes off around this point.