Dreaming

I was awakened by a dream.

I think I'm in Jacksonville, Florida, although I can't say why. I'm in some sort of a library, and I'm making my way to my favorite table in a little corner, out of the way, but it's been rearranged for some other activity, perhaps a meeting. I stop at another table close by and begin laying out my things, including skulls that rest on some sort of gelatinous bases.

A doctor stands there. He looks familiar, young and cute. I think he reminds me of someone on LJ, but I don't know who. He asks me how long I've been practicing. I reply that I've never even been to medical school, which impresses him.

Suddenly, I'm on a hospital bed, although nothing else has changed. I'm still in the same room, and the doctor is still standing there. I'm his patient. Doug M. (DM) is there. In the dream, I know why I'm on the table, but I can't remember now. Is he going to remove something?

The doctor pulls off his pants. His cock is dried and withered. He takes a scalpel and starts to shave his crotch, bright beads of blood blooming on his skin. The sight of blood reminds me that I have HIV and I pause, fumbling for the words that will warn him. He blinks, protests that I don't have HIV, that Doug and I both have tested negative. I insist that I have HIV, but in the back of my head I remember the negative result too. How did that happen?

I say that we don't have to go through with the procedure, and the doctor agrees. He begins to pull on his street clothes. I ask if he just won't perform the surgery today, or not ever, but he's on the phone and doesn't hear.

As Doug and I are getting dressed, a big bug is flying in the room. The two of us swing at it, trying to kill it. It lands on me, crawling on my skin, scaring me. Doug manages to grab it. It's a windup toy crab, not a bug at all. He snaps it in half, avoiding its clockwork mandibles.

Ruminations

I haven't remembered one of my dreams since that week at the end of September when I logged several of them. My first dream entry was September 21, and the last one was on September 29. After that, nothing. Before that, nothing. Weird.

I did talk to Doug M. on the phone last night before going to bed, so maybe that's why he was in my dream. We talked for a while. Among other things, he was a friend of Jason Stelling, who died on Dec 4. Doug was out of town for the weekend and just found out. I never knew Jason, but I had read about his death on cjliotta's journal.

This morning I will be going into the doctor's office before commuting to DC. It's time for my blood tests. Next week I'll get my new numbers. Maybe it's not surprising that doctors are in my dreams.

Turning pages

Since I'm not sleepy after my dream, I've been paging through my old journal entries, starting with my "dreaming week." Further along, here's an entry where I write about kissing Bob at Titan. I had completely forgotten about that night. Thank goodness for journaling! :-)