"Bronze is the tougher material, of course"
Dreamed on 2014.03.02.0520
Line up of kids need to get injections to prevent mosquito bites. Several of us are working to give them. I've given them plenty of times before. The tools are pretty much a leather-working awl, a little surgical knife, a tub of honey, and a sewing needle. The first kid comes up, I prep the tools, I explain the process (put some honey on the scalpel and add a tiny bit to the bloodstream for it's antiviral/antiseptic properties), and then I don't do it. I keep finding myself taking the tools out of my mouth (not in a painful way, but it in a let-me-hold-these-in-my-mouth-while-doing-something-with-my-hands-way. Eventually I stare at the honey coated scalpel and realize that I'm stalling because I have no clue how to do this, or even why honey is involved in the procedure. I feel guilty for holding up the line, and making the kid in my seat scared.
Later, I am an out of favor healer that was once chosen by a god ... possibly, I am Asclepius, though not yet reduced to ashes. There is a mission that I think I qualify for, but an angel/being tells me no. Even though I have international fame, I do not have amnesty to travel out of the country. So I return to what I know and spend my time in the backrooms of restaurants performing healings. One guy takes his hat off, leans forward, and I put my hand -- in a magic glowy sort of way -- into his brain for a while, then remove a lump of clay. "Bronze is the tougher material, of course," I say as I take something from the bag and place it back in his skull. A humanoid catlike creature has a broken claw that I mend without difficulty. It would be nice if the upper spiritual management supported my work still.
Line up of kids need to get injections to prevent mosquito bites. Several of us are working to give them. I've given them plenty of times before. The tools are pretty much a leather-working awl, a little surgical knife, a tub of honey, and a sewing needle. The first kid comes up, I prep the tools, I explain the process (put some honey on the scalpel and add a tiny bit to the bloodstream for it's antiviral/antiseptic properties), and then I don't do it. I keep finding myself taking the tools out of my mouth (not in a painful way, but it in a let-me-hold-these-in-my-mouth-while-doing-something-with-my-hands-way. Eventually I stare at the honey coated scalpel and realize that I'm stalling because I have no clue how to do this, or even why honey is involved in the procedure. I feel guilty for holding up the line, and making the kid in my seat scared.
Later, I am an out of favor healer that was once chosen by a god ... possibly, I am Asclepius, though not yet reduced to ashes. There is a mission that I think I qualify for, but an angel/being tells me no. Even though I have international fame, I do not have amnesty to travel out of the country. So I return to what I know and spend my time in the backrooms of restaurants performing healings. One guy takes his hat off, leans forward, and I put my hand -- in a magic glowy sort of way -- into his brain for a while, then remove a lump of clay. "Bronze is the tougher material, of course," I say as I take something from the bag and place it back in his skull. A humanoid catlike creature has a broken claw that I mend without difficulty. It would be nice if the upper spiritual management supported my work still.
I can see connections with Greek mythology (through the character Asclepius, who we studied a week ago), with the show Supernatural (through the character of Cass), and maybe slightly with teaching (fixing peoples heads + impostor syndrome). While my dreams usually strike me as absurd and random, I still have the feeling that there's something more to this one.
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