It must be springtime! Chill out, hormones and brain!
I walked into my new doctor’s office, not knowing what to expect (unsure at this point why I went). The office was a bit strange looking for a doctor’s office, much less warm and inviting than what I’m used to (and that’s saying a lot). There was this big, open bay with examination tables everywhere. In the middle towards the back wall was a large brick fireplace that extended to the roof. Lighting wasn’t very bright. It all seemed industrial. At first, I got a larger woman doctor (there were 3 that I could count). What the place lacked in comfort, the people made up for tenfold. They were very caring people. Everyone was dressed in different colored scrubs. I tell her what’s going on and she nods, doing doctor stuff. I remember thinking that she’s very thorough, and was worried that if she intended to do a full physical examination, then would she pull a curtain at least to give privacy? There’s some sort of commotion going on, and she’s distracted, but she continues with my treatment and gives me drops in my ears, bilaterally, saying this will numb your thyroid. In my dream mind, it made all sorts of sense because my ears connect to my throat and somehow the liquid would penetrate my tissues. I nod in understanding and she leaves, no doubt to let the medicament do its thing. Since the whole place was open bay, everyone could see everyone else. I tried to see what was going on while trying to be a good patient, but given that I was behind the big fireplace, I had no clue. However, I did work out that it seemed the whole place was split up like a restaurant where, in this case, it was 1 doctor to 2 examination table/beds. If you counted them, though, they seemed to be short-staffed. It had been plenty of time for the numbing drops to work and I was concerned that I would burn through the anesthetic too quickly, so I tried to get the doctor’s attention, but that commotion seemed to be an emergency, so I just sat back down and waited some more. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go and I didn’t seem to be dying either. Well, after a bit of time, a male doctor in blue scrubs came up to me. It appeared that he was taking over for my initial doc. He seemed fit, young, with reddish brown hair and a neat full-beard (…same guy as in the last recorded dream?? This guy seemed slimmer and shorter) and a little bit unkempt. Extremely friendly, though, he moved liked he knew what he was doing, so I let him. Indeed, it seemed he was doing a full examination (was I in an ER???). At that point I didn’t seem to care much about anyone around me. His movements were quick and precise. Suddenly, he got on top of the table, straddled atop me, and started humping me, still clothed. I was taken way aback, but my body responded to my embarrassment and I gripped his butt with each thrust, trying desperately to control my breathing and voice. While he was doing this, I could lightly sense him touching my head all around, and pretty much figured out what he was doing: trying to distract me while examining a different place so that he could get an accurate exam without my “helpful” interference. When he was done, he stopped, and sat back, still astride me, with a very apologetic yet amused expression on his face, no doubt regarding my “encouraging” hands. My mind was still in a surprised and embarrassed haze at this point as he explained, people–women–think I’m hitting on them, but it’s the best way to…blah blah something. It was hard to focus given what just happened. He then thrust his ear in front of my mouth and told me to breathe. Then just breathe with my nose. He must have put some aromatic oil on his ear because it smelled good and I was terribly concerned that I hadn’t brushed my teeth well with him so close to my face. Plus, it was so VERY hard to control my breathing. That’s when I realized he didn’t have a stethoscope. My breathing was labored…I hoped it wouldn’t effect his diagnosis His next move was to check my pulse on my chest and I was excited yet worried about what his next surprising move would be: put his head on my chest? or pull up my shirt and put his head on my chest?? But alas–
–next dream. It was a work dream. The office was in a different place–a bigger place, but much older it seemed. There were actual rooms that worked as operatories with doors, except the doors were made of thick metal…I think the place used to be a prison. Dim lighting again. Each of the rooms had windows, but they were barred. The reception area was doored off from the rest, but the desk was absolutely massive. The waiting room was closed off from that area too and filled with patients lining each wall in the chairs, waiting. I was in the bathroom and came out to find that my patients were seated in my op already. An older couple whose names did not match at all what they looked like. I treat them both and go off to get the doctor for an exam. She happened to be reaching into a refrigerated display like in grocery stores to take out a couple packets of unleavened bread wafers. I tell her what’s going on and inform her that the patient wishes to come back for a 3 hour block to get everything done that needs to be done. She says “ok” and I wa der off to wait for her to go see them. I head back to tell them she’s coming and notice that my dumb coworker just brought back her patients and roll my eyes as she closes the door to her room. I tuck that into the back of my mind to gossip with my other coworker later. Then I head out to the reception area to see what another coworker is up to and she’s lamenting about how the piles of paperwork on her desk will take weeks, no, months to go through! I check the schedule and she gives me this look when I ask who “Queen of the year (something to that effect)” is. Uh oh. High maintenance patient. Great. I’m in no mood to deal with this. So I finally get her back and its dark outside now. The patient has been rather impatient but I can’t help that if my doctor is always behind. The first thing I ask her is what is her real name. She smiles at me, obviously not about to give up her secrets, and makes up some other ridiculous “name.” I then ask her for her license because we can’t treat her and submit to insurance without her real name. She just smiles again and I continue, asking if she drives. She does, so may we have her license. She looks about to launch into some self-entitled tirade so I book it to tell my doctor.
Then I wake up.