Quarantine Dream: Being Vetted

A quarantine dream by Amy Barnes: We must protect the vulnerable. That includes ourselves.

The doctor has bits of fur on his hands and neck, poking out around his white coat’s collar and sleeves. I wonder if he’s a werewolf but don’t dare ask.

 He growls a command at me.

“Roll up your sleeve.” he says.

It feels easier said than done lying on his meat-locker-cold exam table. My arms and legs splay as I struggle to not fall off. I obediently try to roll up my orange faux fur coat sleeves but fail. Over and over again. He gets impatient and jabs a dream-worthy, cartoon-sized needle into my arm through the layers. I flinch even in my sleep.

“Now you’ll feel better. Come back in six months for your rabies shot.”

I don’t believe him but I want to escape the smell of urine and fur and de-worming medicine.

As I exit to pay, I hear meows and barks echoing in the waiting room. His next patient is leashed and running skittery-toed on the slick tile floor.

“Rover,” the nurse calls.

The waiting room is full of waiting dogs and cats playing poker. I leave and head for the groomers next door; I need a trim.

My interpretation of my quarantine dream? Anxiety.

Shortly before this dream, I found out both dogs need their vaccines. Immediately. We hadn’t left the house in weeks. Our first major trip would be to get their shots. It was obviously making me very anxious.