I'm walking around the hospital, but everyone's packing up. There are people with tubes coming out of them, sitting up in bed, having machines disconnected. The machines are whirring and then click, click, click, they go off.
People are hopping off beds and getting their clothes out of plastic bags.
Everyone's calm, but nobody's working except to pack things away.
"What's going on?" I say.
"There was a really big order last night," a nurse tells me while winding some cable. She's just unmade a bed. "So the hospital's closed."
The hospital is where you go to be healed. It's where you go, in theory, to get the things that will make you well.
The big order is ... a big order. at work.
My subconscious appears to be waving a red (or white) flag.
Dean's Dream Journal
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