Here is the second of last night’s dreaming snippets.
The dream starts in a waiting room of a seemingly English medical practice. I am sat there next to a rack of magazines and a large window sill upon which is a green indoor plant. In walk two nurses, dressed in old fashioned white nurse uniform with little white cardboard “hats” pinned into their hair. They are chatting loudly and are white corpulent of build. One of them is older than the other. They are not strangers to food. The older nurse comes up to me and asks me, “what drives people (you) to strong drink?”
I have never been much of a spirits sort of person. So I wonder why she is asking me about strong drink. I think. I then say that it is most likely peer influence that pushes one towards strong drink, that or partners. The two nurses look at each other and exchange conspiratory looks. They move through the waiting room and into another room, giggling slightly.
In walks a man who says a loud hello to the receptionist and comes into the waiting room. He is a doctor but somehow is dressed like a catholic priest with black shirt and white dog collar. He is about my age, ruddy of complexion and with unkempt fair hair and balding pate. He claims me as a long lost friend of his. I have never seen him before. He continues to claim me as a friend recounting some exploits we are supposed to have done together. The man is clearly mistaken and possibly intoxicated. I say to him that he is mistaken. He says no he is certain that he remembers me and knows who I am. I say no he is mistaken. He will not accept this. I then say that he is wrong and has mistaken me in French. He is now usure because of the change of language. He gets up and follows the nurses into the room.
I am called into a doctor’s office. The wife comes with me and we sit across the desk from a dark haired query Hispanic woman of around 50 years. Under her white lab coat she has a bright red floral design dress. She has a stethoscope around her neck. She proceeds to ask me what ails me in English. I reply and she looks non-plussed. This goes on for some while. I say to her,
« Nous pouvons parler en français »
At which she relaxes and the consultation continues in French with ease. She writes me a prescription for my normal medication. As we are about to leave she pulls out a packet of cigarettes and takes one for herself. She sparks up. She offers me a cigarette and I decline saying that I don’t smoke. I think it odd that the doctor is smoking in her office.
We then go to a pharmacy in an arcade. It is very busy and the green pharmacy sign outside is bright. There is a queue in the pharmacy. There is a young man and a young woman in lab coats. They see the name on my prescription and try to speak to me in English. They are trying to show off to some of the other customers. The transaction is very slow. So I switch to French and then everything progresses well and quickly.
The dream ends.
Dreamyoga 