i was staying in a large warehouse with several hundred other people, barracks-style.  it was part of a larger system of warehouses and other buildings, with grass and trees and pathways in between.  everyone was hunched over on cots, terrified; we were all there to have mandatory surgery.  i wasn’t in the warehouse very long before a group of black-clad officials came in and posted a list of names in order, and i discovered i was to be the third person in our group to have the operation.

i felt on the edge of hyperventilating from fear and sadness, so i went outside for a walk.  the pathways were winding but short, as the buildings were rather close together, so i didn’t get very far.  when i tried to get back inside, i discovered that many of the warehouse doors wouldn’t open, and i couldn’t get in.  the only entrance that worked was one in front of which there were identical construction workers tearing up the pavement.  i maneuvered around the construction, but before i could open the door, a woman in a kimono stopped me.

“you can’t go in there,” she said, staring at me.

by that time i was sobbing, and i looked directly at her, tears streaming down my face, hoping she would sympathize and let me in, but she didn’t.  i walked on.

i don’t know how i got back inside, but then i was inside talking to the girl who had been first in line.  she had just come back from the surgery and said that she felt fine, that there was really nothing to worry about.  she didn’t convince me.  “aren’t you terrified?” i said to the second girl.

“of what?” she said.

“you’re next!” i shouted, not understanding why she wouldn’t know what i was talking about.

“oh,” she said, and began to cry.

then it was my turn and i went over to the building, still sobbing.  the doctors gave me some sort of anesthesia and i passed out.  when i came to i was sent to the public showers, where i took off the hospital gown i was wearing and turned on one of the shower heads (all of which were arranged several feet apart on a long wall, with no dividers or doors).  i was in a fantastic mood.  the doorway to the public showers had a curtain instead of a door and, although the curtain kept coming open to reveal quite a crowd walking by and gawking at me, i didn’t care.  i was too happy to care.

i had three sets of stitches from the surgery.  one just underneath my chin, one across my forehead just below my hairline, and one across the nape of my neck.

now, you tell me, what kind of scary fucked-up dream is that to have?