I was admitted to a hospital. I was in a drab hospital gown; that's how I knew. I didn't really know what for.
A nurse arrived in the ward and told me I was to check out that day. But first, I had to decipher the message of the day.
Acting as if it was normal procedure, I expected to be given an envelope. Instead, I was ushered to the garden. There were already other patients milling about when I got there. And their attention was all in one spot.
Under the shade of the trees was a group of patients sitting on monoblock chairs, huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in a game.
As if reading my mind, the person beside me whispered, "They are not playing at all. They are going to flash the message with those big cardboards."
Each cardboard contained a word, he explained. And apparently, we needed to unscramble the words to get the message. Or we could not get out of there.
Was this how we pay hospitals now? I was starting to doubt the situation, but I wanted to go home. I had to. I didn't feel sick at all. What was I doing there anyway?
I stood among the crowd, waiting in anticipation for the game to begin. All eyes were on the guys on the opposite side of the garden.
Then they raised the boards once! Aaah! Nobody could get it. The crowd rumbled in frustration. It was too fast. And my heart was racing in my chest.
Another try. One . . . two . . . three! They raised the boards again. Everyone cheered! The message was clear.
I hurriedly wrote the short note on a piece of paper. My hands were shaking so bad I misspelt so many words. I was starting to panic. Time was running out, but I still had to edit it.
Aaaargh . . . Erase, erase, write, and write. One more sweep over the words . . . Done!
I ran to the nurses' station to fill in the form and submit it. When I was done, I saw the other patients wailing in desperation because their forms were not accepted. I looked at their papers and noted that they were not following the instructions. They scurried back to the garden.
This was the message:
A couple of minutes later, I was back in the ward. As I was packing my bag, I felt drowsy. My eyes were heavy in my head, my vision blurred. Then I woke up. 😳
I hope you enjoyed the short story above. I wrote it back in July 2015 in my dream journal, which I recovered recently.
If you want to read more creative writing from me, please let me know in the comments below. I consider dreams as good sources of story materials, such as strange visions like the one you have just read. I also write from observations and experience if you prefer that.
I'd also like to hear your thoughts on the meaning of the dream. I am interested in dream interpretations, and I have had some pretty accurate ones before, especially with vivid and lucid dreams.
For this particular dream, it's a foreshadowing of my Mommy's hospitalization, which happened in October that year. And I took care of her while she was admitted. I volunteered because I was not working at the time. By the way, Mommy was not my mom; she was my grandmother's sister.
I'm writing this in honour of her, for she had already gone back home to God a couple of years ago. 🌸
