Two nights ago I had a long dream which involved wet suits, a flooding river, and me repeatedly quelling panic, because I cannot swim.
The three of us were, for reasons never explained, traveling down a swollen river in the middle of the night. It was in North America, but not in Wisconsin. The flora were all wrong for that. It was temperate, there were no animals or insects around, and it was very quiet, with the exception of us in our boat (which, at one point just disappeared). Near the end of the dream, the man (I was with one man and one woman, both relatively anonymous) and I swam to the shore. He had something to tell me. As I was wriggling out of my wet suit (terribly relieved to be out of the water - you know, can't swim), he came up close behind me and held his hand out. "I need a refill on my inhalers," he said. I was a bit vexed. Was there a Walgreen's in walking distance? I didn't have a wallet with me, did I? Was there a co-pay?
I didn't say anything to him, and he had nothing more to say. It was understood that I'd take care of it. I just pulled myself up to a dry spot on shore and finished taking off my wet suit, eyes on the twin inhalers sitting on the ground before me. Thinking about getting Tom Cruise's prescriptions refilled.