After a long day of classes and lab time, I was studying my flashcards for the cardiovascular system before bed, and I fell asleep with them in my hand. I awoke, put the cards away, and went back to sleep. This is what I dreamed:
I was lying in my bed on white sheets, and beside me was “the squid.”
In my lab class for Anatomy, we use “the squid” to study the vessels outside of the context of the human body. “The squid” is stored in a Glad Tupperware container, and it is a rather mangled heart with all the main vessels attached. In lab, I had spent many hours the previous day untangling “the squid” and identifying the names of the vessels and the organs they would either feed or drain in a living human being.
In the dream, I was lying on my side, staring at the squid that I’d laid out and flattened beside me, running my finger along each of the vessels saying the name and function of the vessel: “You are the right subclavian artery, and you feed the right upper limb.” I named every vessel I possibly could. I even made some mistakes and was able to correct them based off of what I’d learned earlier that day.
Just then, in the dream, my boyfriend walked into my bedroom and said, “I’m tired. Can I lie down and go to sleep?”
I looked up at him, paused, and then said, “No, there is not enough room for you. It’s just me and the squid.”
Then I woke up.