More Bad Dreams

We've been harvesting some great bad dreams around here recently. Last night's went like this: Sebastian needed brain surgery, and so the doctor came to see us and told us what needed to be done. Then Murray, my pianist, set to work cutting open his head and doing the surgery. Jeff, the bass player, was there too. After a few hours it was done. The doctor called up and asked me to examine my son's wounds and describe them to me. "Is any part of his brain protruding?" he asked. I said yes, one part was. Then he asked me how the neurosurgeon (Murray) had made the cuts to the cranium. I asked Murray to get on the phone with him. When they finished, Murray was shaking his head. I said, "I know you're a doctor, but I didn't know I'd need a neurosurgeon." Then the doctor showed up to examine everything and meanwhile Spiderman had climbed through the window and we were apparently in a highrise that was getting taller by the minute and Jeff was giving me crap about getting laid off and then I woke up. To my immense relief I realized my little boy didn't need surgery and just to reassure myself I rubbed his sleeping head.