Not Real Blood Though, Right?
I was in New York City, meeting up with my brother for lunch.
While I was waiting for him in the lobby of his office, two of his associates struck up conversation with me.
They liked me.
They really liked me.
They tell me to hang around for a minute, and then scurry away.
They invite me into a room with a large round table.
Soon, about ten people file into the room and sit down at the large round table.
They ask me questions. Random questions. "Tell us about yourself," one faceless person says.
Charlie appears. I have to test him.
I prick his finger and squeeze. A clear, water-like glob oozes from his finger.
It doesn't look like blood, but I fill the test strip anyway and get an error alert on the meter.
I nervously pull another test strip out of its canister and prick his finger again.
People around the table sense my growing panic.
This time a blue glob trickles from his finger.
I leave the room, I think. I can't remember. A thin young man in a red v-neck sweater calms me.
"It's OK, it's OK. He's 133," he says, meter in hand.
He looks like Justin Timberlake. He's holding Charlie. "I'm type 1," he reassures me.
A woman at the table mutters suspiciously, "that's not real blood though, right?"
I roll my eyes and think to myself: man, wait until I tell the OC about this lady.
I wake to a 25-pound drooling baby riding my incredibly full bladder like it's a Hoppity Hop.
While I was waiting for him in the lobby of his office, two of his associates struck up conversation with me.
They liked me.
They really liked me.
They tell me to hang around for a minute, and then scurry away.
They invite me into a room with a large round table.
Soon, about ten people file into the room and sit down at the large round table.
They ask me questions. Random questions. "Tell us about yourself," one faceless person says.
Charlie appears. I have to test him.
I prick his finger and squeeze. A clear, water-like glob oozes from his finger.
It doesn't look like blood, but I fill the test strip anyway and get an error alert on the meter.
I nervously pull another test strip out of its canister and prick his finger again.
People around the table sense my growing panic.
This time a blue glob trickles from his finger.
I leave the room, I think. I can't remember. A thin young man in a red v-neck sweater calms me.
"It's OK, it's OK. He's 133," he says, meter in hand.
He looks like Justin Timberlake. He's holding Charlie. "I'm type 1," he reassures me.
A woman at the table mutters suspiciously, "that's not real blood though, right?"
I roll my eyes and think to myself: man, wait until I tell the OC about this lady.
I wake to a 25-pound drooling baby riding my incredibly full bladder like it's a Hoppity Hop.
Weird dream.
posted by Carey @ 7:04 AM
8 comments
8 Comments:
Weird, all right.
You know what else is weird?
I've never blogged about a dream before this morning.
Very strange.
Listen: no more cheese before bed, okay?
I had a good one recently: I was in Joan Didion's apartment helping her get over the death of her husband. Outside, my sister and my girlfriend were playing in a field of baby skunks. Thousands of baby skunks.
What was even more weird i re-read the first parts of your blog three times before i got to the Dream part. My face was very "squinched" while reading it.
At least you dont dream about delivering packages and wake your wife up in the middle of the night asking where Lindenshore Drive is.
drop me an email i would like to help with the movie making if you would like.
shists@mts.net
Whoa - that was weird!
My face was all scrunched up too!
The part that disturbed me most? When something OTHER than red came out of his finger... Sure, I've had NOTHING come out - but a different color liquid? That would freak me right out...
And I also think it's interesting that both you & Sandra post about a dream on the same day...
Maybe it is about the feeling of loss of control? It was weird whatever it was and must have left you feeling odd when you woke up.
Thanks for sharing and I hope Charlie never has weird colors of blood come out of his little fingers.=)
What if.........What if your dream was your conscious life/reality and what you experience as consciousness was actually a dream?
i've had so many weird diabetes related dreams, especailly when i wake up and test and find myself REALLY low.
Before I found out it was a dream I was thinking were you accidently using a pen to prick Charlie's finger? And then when that woman said "is that real blood", I thought, well THAT's a new one to add to the list of stupid things people say...it sounded like a legitimate stupid thing!
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