This was a long and complicated dream.
It starts at a train station on a dark night - the clouds are hanging low in the sky and there is just a silvery glimpse of the moon through the clouds. I am on a platform waiting for a train to Coogee, but it is cancelled and I go outside to the Eddy Ave bus stop instead to get a bus.
While I'm there I have a serious case of disorientation - since when was there a train to Coogee?
I get on the bus and inside there is a meeting of various people. Some are my colleagues from Darwin and others from Canadia, a real mix of people. The bus is cleared of all the seats and there is a large oval table in the middle, around which everyone is congregated. I've arrived just as they are discussing the case of a 20 year old woman who presented with cardiogenic shock. The story sounds typical for Darwin - very young, very sick, unable to get to the right place at the right time, so they died.
Except one of the surgeons was making comments about how we limited her treatment, capping her treatment options so that she died. As I am listening to this, my blood begins to boil, millions of questions racing through my head. I stand up and start ranting about how it is grossly inappropriate to limit treatment for a young person, that they should be treated equally to how young people are treated in big cities.
Would she have had a better chance in Sydney? in Melbourne? I shout to the stunned group.
Then Ghislaine stands up and starts talking about the Emergency Department - but of course she doesn't work in Darwin! She talks about the limitations of working in scarcely resourced environments, and it feels strange because Toronto is hardly a place like that.
There is no end to this scene (or perhaps i have forgotten). The next thing I know, I am walking with a friend in the forest. It is impossibly green, the trees huddled so close together that there is almost no natural light. Looking up through the dense canopy, it's hard to tell what time of the day it is now. We are walking along a tiny path, scratched out in dirt between the trees.
We come to a house, and this is our destination. We knock on the door and an older couple come to the door. They are probably in their 50s, dressed in dowdy-ish clothes. They open the door wide and gesture for us to come in.
As I step inside, there is a sudden chill. The woman slams the front door shut behind my friend with such a violent force that the wind is knocked out of both our souls. We become frightened immediately. As I breathe in, it smells so musty that I almost choke. The man starts to drag me by the arm whilst the woman has grabbed my friend. My eyes find it difficult to adjust to the dim light, but as I am pulled towards the inner room, I see outdated furniture all around us - a blast from the past? The man pulls harder and I fall awkwardly. He is dragging me now, my feet catching on the threadbare brown carpet. We reach the door to the inner room, and he pushes me hard into it. My friend is pushed in as well, and I rush to the door to jam it open with my foot. The man puts his hand on the door to slam it shut, and I swing my bag (my blue Antler bag I bought at Winners in Toronto) at his head.
Whoosh. and I miss. It goes over his head - too high. He seems momentarily stunned, then laughs at me.
Whoosh. I swing again and I miss again. I stare at the man really hard, but I can't focus on his face. He laughs louder and the woman joins in again.
Whoosh. I swing as hard as I can, and the effort makes my vision blank out for a moment. But of course I miss a third time, and as I stumble backwards from the recoil, he slams the door and we are left in the dark inner room.
There is no furniture in the room at all, just the same brown carpet. My friend and I touch the walls together, hoping for some sort of defect. There is no window. The door is completely soundproof and doesn't even register the thuds of us banging on it. We sit down on the ground, feeling rather defeated. In the corner of the room, there is a single video camera.
I look straight into the lens of the camera, and I can see the footage it is taking of us - slightly grainy, dark blue, shadowy. The film is playing at the local pub, a Swedish pub? A bunch of men sitting in front of the bar watch us intently, waiting for our next step.
Are we in a reality show? Break out from the impossible room? I think to myself, and wake up.
It starts at a train station on a dark night - the clouds are hanging low in the sky and there is just a silvery glimpse of the moon through the clouds. I am on a platform waiting for a train to Coogee, but it is cancelled and I go outside to the Eddy Ave bus stop instead to get a bus.
While I'm there I have a serious case of disorientation - since when was there a train to Coogee?
I get on the bus and inside there is a meeting of various people. Some are my colleagues from Darwin and others from Canadia, a real mix of people. The bus is cleared of all the seats and there is a large oval table in the middle, around which everyone is congregated. I've arrived just as they are discussing the case of a 20 year old woman who presented with cardiogenic shock. The story sounds typical for Darwin - very young, very sick, unable to get to the right place at the right time, so they died.
Except one of the surgeons was making comments about how we limited her treatment, capping her treatment options so that she died. As I am listening to this, my blood begins to boil, millions of questions racing through my head. I stand up and start ranting about how it is grossly inappropriate to limit treatment for a young person, that they should be treated equally to how young people are treated in big cities.
Would she have had a better chance in Sydney? in Melbourne? I shout to the stunned group.
Then Ghislaine stands up and starts talking about the Emergency Department - but of course she doesn't work in Darwin! She talks about the limitations of working in scarcely resourced environments, and it feels strange because Toronto is hardly a place like that.
There is no end to this scene (or perhaps i have forgotten). The next thing I know, I am walking with a friend in the forest. It is impossibly green, the trees huddled so close together that there is almost no natural light. Looking up through the dense canopy, it's hard to tell what time of the day it is now. We are walking along a tiny path, scratched out in dirt between the trees.
We come to a house, and this is our destination. We knock on the door and an older couple come to the door. They are probably in their 50s, dressed in dowdy-ish clothes. They open the door wide and gesture for us to come in.
As I step inside, there is a sudden chill. The woman slams the front door shut behind my friend with such a violent force that the wind is knocked out of both our souls. We become frightened immediately. As I breathe in, it smells so musty that I almost choke. The man starts to drag me by the arm whilst the woman has grabbed my friend. My eyes find it difficult to adjust to the dim light, but as I am pulled towards the inner room, I see outdated furniture all around us - a blast from the past? The man pulls harder and I fall awkwardly. He is dragging me now, my feet catching on the threadbare brown carpet. We reach the door to the inner room, and he pushes me hard into it. My friend is pushed in as well, and I rush to the door to jam it open with my foot. The man puts his hand on the door to slam it shut, and I swing my bag (my blue Antler bag I bought at Winners in Toronto) at his head.
Whoosh. and I miss. It goes over his head - too high. He seems momentarily stunned, then laughs at me.
Whoosh. I swing again and I miss again. I stare at the man really hard, but I can't focus on his face. He laughs louder and the woman joins in again.
Whoosh. I swing as hard as I can, and the effort makes my vision blank out for a moment. But of course I miss a third time, and as I stumble backwards from the recoil, he slams the door and we are left in the dark inner room.
There is no furniture in the room at all, just the same brown carpet. My friend and I touch the walls together, hoping for some sort of defect. There is no window. The door is completely soundproof and doesn't even register the thuds of us banging on it. We sit down on the ground, feeling rather defeated. In the corner of the room, there is a single video camera.
I look straight into the lens of the camera, and I can see the footage it is taking of us - slightly grainy, dark blue, shadowy. The film is playing at the local pub, a Swedish pub? A bunch of men sitting in front of the bar watch us intently, waiting for our next step.
Are we in a reality show? Break out from the impossible room? I think to myself, and wake up.
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