Come now, take the trip.
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Come in, sit, relax and get uneasy. Don't be scared. Although it may prick a little, it wont hurt too much. Come in take my hand and we'll take you places you have not wanted to see before.
But now you do.
He goes to sleep at 11:23 PM and wakes up again in a dream at 2:59 AM. He doesn’t like dream sequences in movies that much, primarily because they merely serve as a plot device and he feels a flashback or a flawed personality study in real-movie-time would serve more appropriately and that dream sequences only take the viewers on a tangent. This is all unless the dream sequence is not really a dream sequence, instead it serves as an insight to the character’s troubled state; transference, when he thinks he’s in love, projection when he’s angry. But this is different, the dream is lucid and his breathing is shallow and above all he sees himself as a different person undergoing a surgery, except that there aren’t any doctors here but only medical apparatus, mean looking machines that end in shiny little silver probes. Some have entered his body others are getting closer. Feet, legs, crotch, belly, hands, arms, neck, face, eyes; the probes advance in a slow rhythmic hum towards his soft flesh and the ones which have already entered his person stick out firmly like acupuncture needles. The probes have plastic tubes attached to the other end and the machines keep sending fluid to different parts of his body in small bursts of pink and white. He doesn’t panic, he doesn’t need to, maybe because it’s ‘only’ a dream or maybe because he’s hovering above the real subject who is lying a few feet below him on a white bed with silver railings and 67 different needles/probes digging into the flesh.