Crazy Dreaming

Lynn Murphy Mark

2/1/22

If you live in Saint Louis you know about the behemoth of a place called Barnes-Jewish Hospital. It sits near the line that divides Saint Louis City from Saint Louis County and is right at the Eastern edge of Forest Park, one of Saint Louis’s treasured locations.

If you’ve ever been a visitor or a patient at Barnes, you know it as a self-contained small city. It is simply a huge complex with what seems like hundreds of departments and patient care units. If you snag a spot in the parking garage on the South side of Barnes and think you have arrived, think again. Your destination may actually be on the North side which will require a day’s worth of steps (if you’re counting) to get where you need to be.

Barnes is a teaching hospital associated with Washington University, just across Forest Park. If you have something exotic wrong with you it is the place to be. Otherwise, it’s “teaching and research first, patient care second”. That’s my opinion, by the way.

On a soon to be related note, I rarely remember my dreams. Last night, though, was different. In the dream I was headed to Barnes to visit a friend who happened to be a patient on the Psychiatric unit. I have no idea why she was admitted to Psychiatry – she is one of the most stable and mentally sound people that I know. But that’s dreams for you. I  managed to find her  and sat with her quietly while a constant stream of health care workers wandered in and out of her room.

I had a sudden strong urge to find a bathroom in which to pee. I couldn’t use the one in her room – that is forbidden. I stepped out of the room and asked a worker for directions to the nearest rest room. “Oh”, she said,” good luck with that! Just follow a hallway and you’re bound to find one.” Armed with that information I took off down the first hallway I found. There were no doors in this passageway and no signs. I turned its many corners only to find more hall. It seemed endless.

At this point in my dream the urge to find a bathroom intensified. Finally I came to a closed door. Upon opening it I found myself on a patient care wing. There were dozens of doors leading to patient rooms, but none marked “rest room”. By this time I was desperate.

The patient rooms were set up with windows looking into a small bathroom, beyond which was the bed with a patient. I could search no further. I saw a person sleeping soundly in the bed and decided I had to use their bathroom. It didn’t bother me that there was a clear view into the bathroom from the hall. Who among us has never had the urge to go so strong that they could pass up this opportunity?

I quietly entered the bathroom and positioned myself to do my business. The next thing I knew, there were two armed police officers standing at the bathroom windows. I could see the grips of their holstered guns from my seat on the throne. I could hear them debating about whether I should be arrested for illegally entering someone’s bathroom. Since I was in dreamland, it didn’t bother me a bit to be a spectacle as more people gathered around the bathroom window. I didn’t even care if I was soon to be arrested for trespassing. The relief of finding a toilet far outweighed any humiliation. Thankfully, I woke up then and made it to my real bathroom. 

Whatever the message was in this dream is unclear. It’s bothersome that I don’t remember dreams that carry bulletins from beyond consciousness. I have a friend who has such clear dream memories that she is able to write them down in the morning and study them for their meanings.

I’m just glad I didn’t wet the bed….