I couldn’t shake the image from my head so much that it followed me that night into deep slumber. He had casually and clinically shared that one option was to remove my stomach in its entirety and simply connect my esophagus to my lower intestine. Unless of course the tumor rested slightly northward and then it was the actual esophagus that would demand extraction. But that was out of his jurisdiction and expertise – Thoracic’s would know much better.

I found myself wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar tunnel of sorts, carrying an intestine on one arm, which felt rather light, but also a bit clammy. I clutched my lungs and esophagus with the other but was more concerned with the lights I sensed were guiding my expedition. Our walk was relatively quiet and peaceful. Serene. Was that rushing waters I thought I heard off in the distance? Actually my very own blood which I later learned.

Although somewhat aware of my dream, I was sufficiently lucid to remind myself that hey dude –  you’re carrying some prized bodily organs in your hands! But unsure if the surgeon had actually given them to me?  Had I  somehow forgotten? C’mon, did he really and gleefully tell me to take them home? Better yet – wtf was I supposed to do the damn things? I struggle with used auto parts – what would I do with a lone intestinal strand, my lungs, and the fucking cancer culprit esophagus? How was I even breathing? And why was I so okay with this shit?

Moments later I was sitting in a non-descript cafeteria. There was a tray in front of me yet it made no sense in my dream state how the food had arrived there. And why the fuck was I even there? Before me was a giant Flintstone-esque brontosaurus beef rib alongside a mound of creamy cole slaw. The drool I later found that drenched my pillow was pure salivation. Shit looked awesome!

Regardless of the confusion I was def pleased at my good fortune. Grabbing the bone, I hoisted this carnivore’s wet dream towards my anxiously awaiting moistened lips. (Gross, rt?) As I opened my mouth to grab this highly anticipated  first bite the shank mysteriously transformed back into my esophagus, and it was all lung that graced my ravenous teeth. Fucking disgusting!

Recognizing my misfortune and thoroughly disgusted (told ya), I spit out a bleeding chunk of organ meat, desperate now to wipe my face, my hands, just get the fuck outta there! Yet my arm and hands were frozen – I hate when this happens. Terrified, I screamed but my voice was mere spittle and silence. I prayed (ha!) this was indeed a dream and begged to be released from my slumber. Moments later my wish was granted as I sprung up from where I lay, pressing my hands firmly against the bed to assure I was grounded in my current (miserable) reality. Once orbit was confirmed I lay back again relieved to be whole, and still in possession of my vital organs. Or was I?