A Drug Induced Dream "The Apostrophe"

Part 5 Dream Series for Writers

Strange lady doctor. Did not look like one. (Doctor I mean, she didn't look like one.) We were in her apartment maybe? Darkish hair. Not too long. Contemporary casual dress. Hair pulled back sort of, sometimes. Lived alone. Glasses? House not too clean, not too not. Had notebook or something she was holding and a pen or a pencil. I was reading before she came into the room and I saw an apostrophe on the page move, like a mite, or apostrophe looking bug, go right off the page.

Strange lady doctor. Did not look like one. (Doctor I mean, she didn't look like one.) We were in her apartment maybe? Darkish hair. Not too long. Contemporary casual dress. Hair pulled back sort of, sometimes. Lived alone. Glasses? House not too clean, not too not. Had notebook or something she was holding and a pen or a pencil. I was reading before she came into the room and I saw an apostrophe on the page move, like a mite, or apostrophe looking bug, go right off the page.

This is what I’m remembering. But it’s happening too. The apostrophe was on the word “it’s”, second line from the bottom. It just moved. Came to life. Went right off the page. Did it go back again? I don’t remember.

She came to sit by me. I couldn’t get words out right, or really turn to see her because she sat at the other end of the couch, which was a bit dirty and worn and had a graying tint over the colors. It was colorful if you really looked at it. Lot's of vintage purple, and velvety. The pillows were mostly big with yellow-brown, thin strands of silky fringe around it.

You could tell it was bright sunny outside but it turned into a sunny haze when it came into the room. I couldn’t turn her way but I could turn the other. It was because of my back I think.

I tried to tell her what had been going on and that I had stopped the medication, but I kept stuttering the words. I still couldn’t get them out right. Like when you’re caught in a lie. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t lying. I was trying to explain.

I couldn’t remember the name of vicadin and she kept saying all these names of medications, and repeating Femerall. No. I kept saying no. That wasn’t it. What is Femerall? I kept wondering. She threw something, like a purplish-black plastic vile across the room. Then another one flew, this time across the front of me to the right edge of the sofa.

I looked at her, strangely, as if I’d known her a long time. Looked at her like, “what the hell did you do that for,” or, “what was that?” But I had never met her before in my life. She laughed, really hard. Well, it was laughing really hard for her. You could tell, but she didn’t really move, she just adjusted herself, casually, and said, “I think she wants you to pet her.” What? I didn’t see anything. I looked over the arm of the couch. It was a rounded arm. I thought it was taller than it really was, I was just sagging into the couch cushion maybe.

There was a cat. A Siamese, not as beautiful as mine. Darker, long haired, which I thought was not right but then I thought yes, I suppose I had heard somewhere about long haired Siamese cats. There were naked ones too. I’d seen those before, in cat shows. There was another one off to the side that looked similar. A Himalayan moved onto the carpet. All three of them darker than mine. How could someone else have the same type and amount of cats as me? What are the chances. But really I guess they weren’t all that the same.

She had said a moment before that she, meaning the cat, wanted me to pet her. I looked but she was about to puke.

How did she know the cat was there anyway, by the side of the couch, the lady leaning back on the cushions and all. How did she know? She had come in that way. I remembered. Through the hallway from the kitchen and around the couch and in front of the coffee table.
I said it again. “I think she’s going to puke.” And sure enough she did. Or was it a he. Or did it keep going back and forth in my dream. It doesn’t matter, but what about the purplish-black empty plastic vile thing she threw across? I told her I wasn’t sure if maybe she wanted me to pick it up so she could see whether my back could do it or not since I was having problems with it.

I still couldn’t remember what it was I had been prescribed, but it started with a “v”; and it was not Femeral, whatever that was. She was like a psychologist, but I didn’t have an appointment with a psychologist.

Then Sam said he was hot and wanted to go into Mama’s room and Kegan wouldn’t let him because Mama was sleeping. But I wasn’t anymore. And it was hot. And they couldn’t hear me. I was out of the dream already. It was hard to move. If he was hot, what had they put him in?

I was out of my dream. I’d never know what happened. I could never relive that room with the strange doctor the same way, if at all; and I needed to know if I could remember what I had been taking after all.

I remember the apostrophe that moved off the page. What did it mean?

My door was closed. No one could hear me. I tried to cool off.

My phone rang. Dance of the sugar plum fairies. Where was it? My phone was by me. Good that it was by me. There were messages. Who had called? It was my husband. What time was it? It was dark now. He’d be home soon.

I needed something. I tried not to. Four days of trying not too. I was knotted though, and the pain was shooting down my legs but I sat anyway.

What I wouldn’t give to just be able to lie on my side, and for the pain to just go away. Like wanting, needing, so bad to sleep on your stomach when you’re so full of being pregnant you want a hole to open up in the bed so you could do it. Like with those massage tables that they use where the piece comes out. Why is that so impossible?

I’m waking up good now. I wish that I weren’t. I want to stay where I was. Keep sleeping. Trying to figure things out. In that strange room, in that strange apartment that wasn’t here.

But it’s mine here. And cozy. And the kids are inside, and they’re being good. So good.

The same feeling came over me, like when they go to sleep and everything is quiet, and I can finally picture them and what beautiful little people they are. I feel my sanity coming back; and I wonder if Sam is still hot and what he’s wearing. And I reach for my pills.