Maybe the pain meds aren’t responsible for the dreams. Maybe the surgery experience brings out the odder corners of the mind. Possibly the meds and surgery experience collude.
In one dream, everything was red. Fire engine red. The walls, the sky, the ground, every single thing red. The same red of the light switches in my hospital room. In another dream, my purse was replaced with a bright yellow bag and every single thing in the bag was brilliant yellow. I didn’t have my wallet, money, or medicine, but I had this bag of plastic yellow things. The yellow of the “fall risk” bracelet around my wrist.
In every dream, the walls are huge. The walls always go up into the sky. Whether I’m outside or inside a building, the building is massive, almost beyond comprehension. And they move. Floors tilt or sink. Walls lean in.
Few of the dreams have other people in them, although one had sales people behind counters. I would say, “My purse has been stolen. I’m lost and have no money. Would you call the police?” And the salesperson would nod and say, “Wouldn’t you like to buy something?”
There were also mini-dreams. I doze off for a few seconds, and someone walks into the room and talks to me. When I open my eyes, no one is actually there. One of the people to show up was the tall man from Agent Dale Cooper’s dreams (visions?) in Twin Peaks.
If you’ve ever had pain med induced dreams, what were they like?
