These 3 dreams took place over two sequential nights, dreams 1 &2 on the first and the last one on the second.
Dream 1
In this dream, I am in the ICU with one of my colleagues. The patient in the bed is an elderly frail man, and we are getting ready to intubate him.
I feel a faint wave of annoyance as we check his cannulas and find that none of them work. My colleague places a fresh cannula and we get ready to start the induction.
The nurse hands me a 10mL syringe of propofol and my annoyance flashed - What am I supposed to do with this tiny amount of propofol? I think, but I suppress my anger and ask her if she would pass me the larger 50mL syringe that she had drawn up for later. After some resistance she hands it to me.
The old man looks at me, his eyes a little opaque. He does not speak, and it is hard to interpret exactly his expression, but I feel the scent of fear hanging over us.
It will be OK, we'll look after you. I pat his hand and wonder if I sound like I'm really condescending - how many times have I said something similar to patients in my life?
He snatches his hand away in defiance. I reach awkwardly for the bung where I attach the huge syringe of propofol - how much should I give him, 10mL? 10mL? I visually estimate his weight. I go with 15mL, err on the side of safety.
I push the 15mL of milky liquid and squeeze the pump set a few times. I watch the white swirl into the giving set and disappear into his arm. The old man winces as the propofol stings his veins.
Any time now. I say to no-one in particular. My colleague stands to the side, disinterested.
Suddenly the man sits up in the bed, and pulls at the ECG leads on his chest. The nurse tries to calm him and he lashes out at her. With the syringe still attached to his arm, I push another 5mL. That should be enough. He tries to climb out of the bed, and the nurse is tossed aside, no longer able to help restraining him. I push another 10mL in, and then in quick succession another 10mL. I've given him 40mL of propofol, enough to take down any adult, even a large adult. I don't want to give him anymore or his heart might stop when it all hits the system.
Is the cannula in the wrong place? I shout to my colleague, who starts to walk away at the most crucial moment. The man rips off all the monitoring and stumbles over the side of the bed. He hangs onto the railing and pulls himself up to a low crouch, unable to stand completely straight. He snarls menacingly at me.
There is only 10mL of propofol left in the syringe, and I lunge to push it all in. The old man laughs and nothing happens. He takes a few steps and he stumbles to one side. I think to myself that the propofol will work, it must work, I just have to wait it out till it works.
But what if it doesn't work? I think to myself. Always be prepared is my mantra. I never anticipated an elderly frail man would need more than twice the induction dose of propofol. Now all the 50mL of propofol is gone, and the empty syringe clatters to the ground.
I step backwards as the man stumbles towards me, still emitting animal like growls of laughter. Ice runs through my veins as the terror washes over me. I look over at the trolley where the first 10mL syringe of propofol lied - this is my only chance. I move slowly towards the trolley, keeping my eyes at the same time on the patient as on the propofol.
The nurse and my colleague are nowhere to be seen. This is my only chance, I repeat to myself, I must stay calm.
With one rapid movement, I reach out with my right hand and grab the syringe. At the precise same moment, the man grabs my left wrist and his cold fingers clamp around my wrist like a vice. He squeezes so hard that a hot flash of pain goes down into my fingers, which go numb immediately. I know the circulation has been completely cut off and my hand is not getting any blood. I try in vain to connect the syringe in my right hand to the cannula, but it proves impossible with the man moving around. His evil maniacal laughs ring in my ears and the numbness in my hand becomes unbearable. I know I only have a few moments before it is all over.
Then the world goes completely black.
Dream 2
I'm in the carpark looking for my car, but it is nowhere to be found. Annoyed, I call my colleague and tell him that I'm going to be late to work. I'll just be 15 minutes late, I tell him. He is warm and friendly on the phone, and tells me to take my time.
It is dark and lightly drizzling. I walk back to my house, and the route takes me through a park. It is totally dark in the park with no lights at all. I feel slightly scared at being alone in such a dark place, but soon my fear is overcome by a very real annoyance at the mud. The rain intensifies and the ground turns to mush. My shoes are covered in mud and I slide with every step. The bottom of my scrub pants is dragged through the mud too, and even though I cannot see it in the dark, I know they are a total mess.
I'm going to need to get changed before I go to work. I think to myself with some annoyance.
Finally I emerge from the park onto a suburban street, where a single street light marks the exit of the park. The light is so feeble that it barely illuminates the ground. I walk towards my house, which is just on the next corner on the left.
Then I feel a rush between my legs and my period has started. What a pain. I think to myself. How does it always know to start at the most inconvenient time possible?
With each step blood pours out of me, an impossible sticky mess running down my legs. I wonder how it's possible that my period is so incredibly heavy at this time. Not even halfway to the house, I think the blood has made connection with the mud. My pants must be a total mess, and I'm annoyed at the prospect of the cleanup.
Finally I get to the house, an old Victorian style house with a verandah all around it. My dad is fixing his bike out the front with his friend, under the porch light which is unusually bright.
Don't wake up grandma. He warns me.
I head inside and realise that I do not know the layout of the house. I have no idea which room is mine and there's no way for me to clean up or get new scrubs. I have no choice but to keep going.
I stop in the kitchen and look for my lunch bag. I go out of the house again with my lunch bag and look for my car. It is nowhere to be found. Under the moonlight, I open the lunch bag and there is a single lunch box inside (unusual for me because I usually pack a lot of snacks!) And within the lunch box is half an avocado and two flakes of tuna.
That is all I have. And the world goes black.
Dream 3
(This is the most vivid dream I've had in recent months, I remember every detail of it as if it really happened)
My friend asks me if I would take her daughter to the pool. She says she hates getting changed in front of people and she is self conscious about her body.
I go to the pool with her daughter and we get changed in the change room. We go in one of the middle lanes and swim slow gentle laps, stopping to chat sometimes.
After a few laps, around 10 ultra competitive swimmers arrive at the pool. They are in their super sleek lycra and sport professional looking caps and goggles. They announce that everyone has to go to the "slow" end of the pool because they are training for a competition. I climb out with the little girl and start going there, but she refuses to get in - she says they are too scary.
We stand on the side of the pool and watch as the competitive swimmers jump into the pool. They zoom up and down the pool at a comically fast speed, so fast that they are actually creating waves within the pool. Some of the others who have obediently moved to the slow end are being dumped by the waves. I think for a moment that the little girl is actually pretty wise.
Suddenly, all the water is gone from the pool. There was no sound of the water escaping, or any visual cue, no warning at all - the water is simply gone. The ten swimmers fall to the concrete bottom of the pool with sickening sounds of bones shattering. They lay sprawled at the bottom. All the other non-competitive swimmers are no longer in the pool, there are just the ten mangled bodies at one end.
I knew immediately that this was a sign.
This is the last day of my life.
I go quickly to the changing room with the little girl. She asks me to get into the showers with her because she's scared. We shower together under the warm water, and I am struck by the feeling that this will be the last time I feel water running over my body. I say goodbye to her and her mother, and I rush home.
When I get through the front door of my home (not my actual home in real life), S is there on the couch. He is reclined on a large blue leather couch with the footrest up, leisurely reading a newspaper. I think for a moment that we must be a few years older than we are now - my body is a little bit saggier, and he has a few more wrinkles.
How was the pool? He asks me innocently, with no awareness of what is about to happen.
I tell him about my realisation, that this is it, and that I am going to die today.
We go upstairs and climb into bed. It is warm inside the room and I feel comforted by its familiar scent. S starts to cry and I see that the tears are just the tip of the iceberg. The depth of his sadness is real, so raw and exposed. I hold him close and we tell each other over and over again that we love each other. The light starts to fade, and I'm not sure if it is the natural course of the day. Or perhaps the light fades like this when life is slowly being extinguished. He tells me that we have had a beautiful life together, and that he would not have done anything differently at all. We cry together and feel as if we are one.
Then the light goes out suddenly, and the world is black.
