Mostly in a dream, I heard a man talking to somebody. “… didn’t pay for two days, so I opened the door and found him like that.”

I felt something squeezing my left arm and another male voice said, “BP is only 70 over 40, with pulse of 16. Only four breaths a minute, and temp is 93.”

I was annoyed they had pulled me out of my nice dream of chasing a goat up a mountain. I found the energy to say, “Lemme sleep.”

A blazing light blasted me in the right eye as a finger lifted my eyelid. “Sir, did you take any drugs? Are you high on something?” The damn laser-like flashlight moved to my other eye for a moment, then mercifully disappeared.

I felt a needle poke my right wrist. “Are you allergic to anything? Did you eat anything unusual recently?”

I felt myself chuckle as I remembered eating a weeks’ worth in only 24 hours.

“This is serious, sir. Do you have any health conditions we should know about? Diabetes? Heart problems?”

I returned to my dream, but the goat had escaped. DAMMIT!

–

I woke up later hearing a siren and felt somebody tapping my shoulder. “… adrenaline is working. He’s coming around. Can you hear me, Ronald? Ronald Junior is your name, right?”

I groggily mumbled, “Ron. Call me Ron.”

“Everything will be okay, Ron. We’re almost to the hospital.”

I opened my eyes and saw a lot of medical equipment, then realized I was in an ambulance.

“BP is back to 110 over 70, pulse of 64…”

I started to sit up, but the paramedic pushed on my chest. “Just lay down and take it easy, sir.