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    Wrong Birthstone/Hospital Fight and Car Trouble

    by , 08-13-2012 at 03:07 PM (439 Views)
    I'm in my apartment with Josh. He says he's planning on getting me something with sapphire in it for my birthday (like a sapphire picture frame?) and he wants to know whether my room is an appropriate color first. We go into my room and look at the walls; they are sky blue, and in places they are shot through with rugged veins of white and darker blue - like the room has been carved out of a strange rock face. Well, the room will obviously match something made of sapphire, but I'm wondering why Josh doesn't know that my birthstone is actually amethyst.


    I'm in a hospital bathroom that would probably be fairly spacious in normal circumstances; however, there are four people in here, and we are fighting--myself and one other person against two men who I identify as gang members of some sort. We are throwing each other against the walls, which are plated with mirrors, and these mirrors begin to shatter under the continued impacts. They don't shatter like normal glass, though; instead they break into many tiny pieces, but stay on the wall for a time before gently falling away as though they were paper. I'm not experiencing any pain despite the violence, but I do know that there's no way I'm going to be able to make it out of the hospital without running into the police.

    Then everyone else in the room is gone, and I leave the bathroom to head for the elevator. When I reach it, I notice the "up" button is flashing rapidly, as if to signal that the elevator is partially broken and I can't go up. That's OK, I want to go down… but when I enter the elevator door, there is actually a staircase there instead, richly carpeted in what might be velvet. I make my way down the stairs; I don't have to go far since I'm only on the second floor. I emerge in the hospital lobby. Outside it is late afternoon and overcast. I begin to walk quickly toward the exit. Before I get there, though, I notice a couch (with a late-middle-aged woman sitting on it) and a table, upon which is a chocolate cake. The cake is there for visitors to eat, and I think about taking a piece for myself, but decide against it.

    Now I'm outside the hospital and walking down the street. As I go, I pass Mom walking in the other direction. She's wearing some kind of dark denim blouse and a flared skirt--not something I normally see her wearing. As we pass, she gives me a look of recognition but doesn't say anything. [skip] It's nighttime and it has rained recently, since the road is wet. I'm still walking along the street, trying to get to my car. I pass a large clump of parked cars (is there a church service or funeral being held nearby?) before coming across my own car--and a man crouching by the driver's side window. He's writing me a ticket. "You were parked on the wrong side of the road for too long," he says in a half-apologetic way, then walks away. I'm dimly aware that the other cars on the street have also received tickets, and I'm not really mad; it's my fault for parking incorrectly, after all.

    I'm in the car with Mom and possibly Josh. As I back out of my spot, I look over at the opposite side of the wet road and see leaves lying there. They are a mix of brilliant red and yellow and look almost petal-like rather than like normal leaves. Whatever they are, they're gorgeous. I have a bigger problem, though… I'm backing up the car but can't seem to actually *stop* it. In fact, I'm slowly speeding up. "Watch out for traffic if you're going to do that," Mom says. Thankfully no cars are coming. As I roll down the road, I begin to understand that I'm not going to get the car to stop normally, so I pull off into a parking lot, begin to downshift the car gradually into first gear, then throw the parking brake. The car stops, but I can feel it sort of quivering--the second I take the parking brake off it's going to start moving again. I don't think Mom was worried about the situation at first, but as I slowed the car down it seemed to dawn on her that we were actually in danger. Now she speaks to me in a quiet, fearful voice. She says it's OK if I want to keep driving, but if I do I have to promise to get myself help because I have "issues." The car is sitting just off the road at the corner of a four-way intersection; as I watch the road I see three or four police cars pass. I'm not sure where I actually want to go.

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    Updated 08-19-2012 at 05:46 PM by 35578