Zombie Doctor "Fixes" All

[Akati]

Hi
everyone,

My handle on here is Akati but you can call me Aaron.

I'm new to the boards but not new
to FDR. I've been absorbing the podcasts for about a year now (give or take). In fact I just hit
#500 last night (listening mostly in order from #1 on). I hadn't had much of a
desire to join the boards until I recently broke the news to my wife that I'd recently become a "none" (atheist), whereas I had claimed Christianity before. I felt a strong
urge to share the following dream, which I had the same night I told her.

I don't often remember my dreams,
or if I do they're fleeting and/or seem unimportant when the light of day seeps
in. When I have remembered them in the past, I haven't been able (and haven't
tried) to make much out of them. In this particular case, I'm fairly certain I
was able to accurately analyze the dream segment immediately after I awoke. I groggily
noted some keywords so that I wouldn't forget the dream and would be able to
retell it later. Here it is.

---

I and my near-two-year-old son
have just finished falling somehow, sliding down some sort of ramp in an
unknown but clean environment. We are perhaps escaping some unknown threat
above us.

When we land without shock, my
son is immediately/inexplicably lying supine on a sterile child-sized table with a
loose-fitting, solid, angular rail running across his body that would serve to hold him
down if needed. He is not fully conscious, but is completely calm/relaxed/napping on this
table. Neither of us appears injured at first.

The space around us is
modernistic and clinical, except with some odd/angular geometry (more sensed
than seen). Instead of white, the walls I am aware of (and the table that my
son is on, which is about as high as my waist) have a light pinkish hue. A few people
are in the somewhat distant background, busy about their own affairs.

I
am standing over my son at his feet, with a sense that I’m there to comfort
him. There is a man standing at his head, leaning over him, but looking
directly at me. He has big, not unhandsome, sincerely concerned brown eyes. His
brown hair is neatly combed and parted. His teeth are white. He is wearing a
lab coat; I don’t notice a name tag. I would put him at around 60 years old. He does not look familiar.

The
most apparent oddity about the man is his skin: Where his skin is exposed, it is a deep
green color, somewhere on the sickly side of forest green. Where the skin of
his head merges into his face, the green pales slightly, so that the area
around his eyes/nose/mouth is somewhat normally flesh-colored. I’ll call him
Dr. Z.

I shift my gaze from Dr. Z’s eyes down to my boy and see
that the Dr. has his hand on my son’s head, while he looks at me, and is gently rubbing his thumb over
my son’s right temple in a seemingly comforting way. The Dr. is still looking directly at me, not at my son—he never looks down at my son—trying to assure
me that my son will be safe/better/fixed soon, with a genuine but still creepy we’ll-take-good-care-of-him
type of plea.

As Dr. Z’s green hand does its work, I notice that the skin under
where he is rubbing was scraped at some point, but not recently. There is a
slightly scabbed area in the center of my boy's temple, and the area around the
scabbing appears scarred.

As soon as I see the wound, I move forward and push Dr. Z’s
hand/thumb away from my son’s head, telling him that my son is hurt. Immediately his thumb reappears and continues rubbing. He continues to plead with me that he is trying to help my son. He clearly wants
me to stop resisting on my son’s behalf, but does not say so explicitly. He does not grow angry with me, but only appears more concerned for my son's well-being. He keeps
looking at me solicitously with his big brown eyes and insidiously perfect
preacher’s haircut. I push his thumb away from my son’s head again, and again
it immediately reappears. The more I push his thumb away, the quicker it comes
back, as though he has more than one thumb and some inhuman flexibility to
match.

I am unable to stop him from rubbing. I become increasingly
irritated/angry and tell the Dr. that he’s hurting my son. I'm not sure if I say it out loud in the dream, but I'm quite certain he's making my son's wound worse. He just continues staring at me, rubbing, pleading with me, and rubbing...

---

I believe I know what this dream means, but I'd like to hear some of your opinions about it. Stefan - if you see this, I would be absolutely thrilled if you'd analyze this one in a podcast/video cast.

Anyway - hope this is a worthy first post for a new member. I look forward to reading more from all of you. Peace!

-Aaron

 

[Akati]

Admin(s) - I'd like to edit this post to clean up the HTML tags if possible. I wrote some of it in MS Word and when I pasted it in the formatting was hindered.

Please advise if you can unlock it for editing (and feel free to delete this reply). I won't change any content, for what it's worth.

Thanks!