This is last night's dream - I wrote it down as soon as I woke up to feed bub which is when it ended....hence the detail. I will when i have the time try and have a go at looking at various things at it and see if I can work it out - but until then - anyone have any ideas???
I don’t remember how this started but I had to go to a neurosurgeon. I couldn’t read properly or write neatly – my memory was shot...I don't remember the details of what my symptoms were but, everything was like a written form of aphasia.
I waited and waited in the clinic until the doctor came to get me. He took me to the examining room through a kitchen – everyone was very deferential towards him calling him Sir and Doctor and all that jazz. He asked if I remembered a Dr Allan Thompson (I think that was the name he asked me). I said no – should I? (I know no-one by this name) – He said he was the doctor who took my tonsils out when I was 2 – and that he remembered me, that he’d been discussing this case with me. I said Jeepers! That was 34 years ago! He must be old and has a great memory. He later mentioned he had been an intern under Doctor Thompson ( FYI – my neurosurgeon’s name is Liddell, not Thompson, nor the name the Doctor examining me gave me – which was the name of a girl I went to school with).
Apparently Hubby was at home looking after the children, and my mum had come to visit to help him.
So we get to the examining room and gets me into a chair similar to a dentists chair. There’s an MRI or CT machine that kind of was free standing (I’m not allowed to have MRI’s btw) to look at my brain.
The doc says – are you ready? I nodded – my head was restrained to reduce movement – and he grabs this chainsaw and starts it up! And comes at me with it …then tells me not to move as I tried to pull away. He can’t be serious! He starts waving this chainsaw around in front of my face and checking a screen to see my brain’s reactions. At one point he has it held vertically in front of my nose – just centimeters away! I noticed I could see better out of my left eye than my right ( in reality true – and why I’m getting new glasses). He says – it’s good news it’s not MS – the markers aren’t showing up on the screen, it’s something else. – that I will lose all ability to write words down properly and even read my own writing. I’m in shock. I notice on the paperwork there is an operation requiring a clip or chip but the doctor doesn’t mention it. I tell him, but writing is my gift! Why would God take it away? I have three little boys – and I then mention their ages. I asked about the operation he didn’t mention and he says – yes there is. I said – why didn’t you mention it. He said it wasn’t for him to play God.
I head home and somewhere along the way picked up 2 wombats and 4 rabbits. I get home and reverse into the garage ( I do go and tell hubby about the tests) and let the wombats out of the boot – they head down to a small area where they can burrow under the shed. And start getting the rabbits out. Three were plump young bunnies who were a grey colour – 2 jump out and are all over the place in seconds. The third one sits their quietly just lookin’ around and the 4th one – poor wee thing – my heart went out to him. He was skinny, smaller than the others with longer hair – and he was quite dark in color – his fur kind of reminded me of my 16 week old’s hair when he has serious bed hair! But his dark colouring was shot through with a blondy gold streak or two. I just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him.
Hubby’s ex comes along and says I have them in the wrong place – they should be in the wood pile – they’re badgers for God’s sake she says. I said no, they need to burrow – they can’t burrow under the woodpile (it sits on concrete). She says but they’ll be safe if the woodpile. We discuss the rabbits – the other two won’t leave the car boot.
The doc apparently has followed me home and I’m torn between an operation or not. He puts his arms around me from behind and I ask him if there is any other way. He says no. Apparently the downtime for me for the operation is a whole whopping half an hour. I was just reluctant to go through more brain surgery.
He then says in a very fatherly tone – when I first met you, you had this golden blonde hair with lots of curls. I laughed and said that I spent years getting my hair permed to get those curls back – I’m not too concerned about the blonde, but that I hadn’t had hair like that since I was 2 ( and I haven’t.) Now I’m brown and straight.
He said that he too remembered me from when I was little and was an intern under Doctor Thompson. And that I was beautiful.
That’s all I remember. J