2020-04-07 - The A-Z of Emergency

The Emergency Department has turned hectic once more. It would be easy to think this was a hospital in New York rather than a sleepy town on the west coast. The problem with sleep towns, of course, is that means they dream. And around here, that's dangerous.

Zara is in her uniform of white coat over green scrubs, though the coat has just been spattered by 'something' that a patient has just thrown up. It doesn't look like vomit, more like a thick mucous that continues to bubble out of the patient's mouth. A man in his mid-thirties, dressed like a stereotypical lumberjack. He must have been out in the woods. Or the sawmill. He can't speak with all the bubbling goo. His body spasming every now and then. He can walk though and seems conscious, so he is guided into a room to be looked at by Doctor Thule. "Can you give me a hand, Abby?" she asks the nurse on the way past.

Abby is in pink scrubs, with cute little flowers on them! They're smiling. The flowers. She tilts he head, blinking for a moment at the bubbling goo, brows alternately arching and bearing down in a tiny scowl. "Suuuure thing!" The nurse pipes up after a moment to steel herself for this, head shaking briefly before she walks inside the room, shifting to the patient's side before moving to ready the examination bed. And snap on a pair of gloves while she's at it, because... goo. She does look slightly at a loss on what to do here, but the patient at least gets a bright, reassuring smile.

Zara slips on her own gloves before also smiling down at the patient. "Can you tell me where it hurts? Or point if you don't think you can speak. You'll be fine, I promise. It's Mister Rogers, right?" The man nods in confirmation of his name before grunting something through phlegm. Realising that wasn't helping, he pointed at his stomach.

Zara nods in understanding. "I'm going to undo your shirt to have a look, Mister Rogers. If it hurts, I'm sorry, but I have to examine you. Do you understand?" He nods, a little fear in his eyes. The doctor undoes the flannel shirt, opening it up to reveal a white singlet that has been stained with more of that ooze, mixed with blood, over where his appendix would be. "Abby, can you pass me some scissors to cut open the clothing, please." The stain seems quite stuck to the skin when she tried to life the singlet.

It would be so much easier if the patient could answer some questions but he continues to spit up gunk. "We might want to get some oxygen too" she says quietly to Abby.

Abby is trying to make sense of this, but while that's going on behind the small crease on her brow, she nods and breaks away to keep up with the instructions. "Sure thing, Doctor!" she says, then there are wheels rolling on the floor (one of them a little creaky) as she pulls a cart a little closer and retrieves a pair of scissors for clothing, carefully holding them out in Zara's direction until the doctor takes them.

Then Abby slips away, moving over to get the oxygen ready in case it's needed, over by the head of the bed. A pause. A little click of her tongue as she considers the bubbling ooze. Then she's off again for a moment, returning with the intubation cart. Discreetly. Tucked away off to the side, just in case.

Zara takes the scissors with a "Thanks" before carefully cutting away at the material around the wound. Still, it is stuck to what seems to be a wound so it is going to hurt Mister Rogers regardless. The singlet is slowly peeled away to reveal an open pus-filled wound where there was once an appendix removal scar. Zara glances up at the intubation cart and offers Abby a 'good idea' nod.

Taking some cleaning pads from the other cart and carefully pats around the wound to try and have a better look at what is happening. Mister Rogers is not very happy about this. And neither is his flesh. It pulses and throbs near where Zara touches; obvious swellings and moving lumps. The stench of rotting flesh fills the room. "Nurse, can you prepare a shot of Ketofol." A warm smile for the patient. "Mister Rogers, we're going to help you relax. Is it hurting when I touch you?" The patient is drifting in and out of consciousness as Zara looks over at Abby once more. "Keep an eye on his breathing after the injection, we may have to intubate."

Abby eyes the open wound, noting the previous scar with another tiny frown, lips pursing in a thoughtful expression. Her throat clenches and swallows at the smell, but she tries to keep the same steady smile on. "Hmm. That's - sure thing, doctor!" She announces, eyes staying with the patient for a moment before she turns away and wanders off to prepare the shot. Once it's mixed, she returns, vial and syringe in hand on a tray. "I thought we might," she agrees in a small voice with a small nod, gaze moving from Zara to the patient again.

"Thank you, nurse" Zara offers professionally as she takes the syringe. She's about to administer the sedative when she is rather distracted by another movement under the skin near the wound. The flesh rising. The ooze bubbling and seeping out. The skin actually lifting as what looks to be a cockroach head pokes out. Zara takes a step back as the insect disappears back into the body.

"Did you see that?" she says quietly to Abby. This is not good. Stung into action, Zara injects Mister Rogers. As the man loses consciousness, she grabs forceps and a penlight from the tray, intending to open up the wound and have a better look. Which she may regret.

Abby draws in a sharp breath. Then there's a moment of silence. "I saw something," the nurse eventually confirms, voice just a little strained at the edges. "I was hoping I hadn't seen what I think I saw, but if you saw it I probably saw it too." There's an odd amount of cheer to her voice.

When Zara reaches for the forceps, Abby nods. "Oh, yep. You saw it too. Yep. Okay!" She rests the knuckles of her hands on her hips and watches, before turning to check the patient's vitals, keeping an eye on the procedure out of the corner of her eye. "Do we know where or when this happened?"

"The forest. Near a sawmill?" Zara doesn't know every weird landmark around the town yet. "Remind me not to go camping where this guy was. A friend dropped him off, talked to triage, and then disappeared. Might need a call to the police too." All this said while she holds open the wound slightly to scan the interior with her light. "I can't see anything... How are his vitals?"

Mister Rogers suddenly starts thrashing about on the bed. Violent convulsions that have Zara dropping her tools and trying to hold him down. "Abby, grab his shoulders."

There is a loud cracking sound. Something snapped inside Mister Rogers. His body stills for a moment...and then his rib cage pushes upwards, bone tearing through flesh and sending spurts of blood into the air.

"Hmmm." That's the sound Abby makes at the mention of the forest and sawmill, mouth twisting slightly to the side. She takes the patient's pulse, eyes on the watch on her wrist, "Vitals are steady. He's got..." she starts saying, glancing over as Zara peers into the wound. The sudden thrashing makes her spring into action, reaching out to grab the man's shoulders, keeping him from bucking off the bed while shooting the doctor a mildly alarmed look. "Should I get someone..."

Whatever she was saying is immediately forgotten when that happens. Abby flinches, head turning away from the blood spurt, whole body recoiling, gloved fingers just barely holding on to the patient's shoulders. "Holy fffudge!"

"Mister Rogers! Can you hear me?" Zara asks in as calm a yell as she can manage over the noise of splintering bone and thrashing body. She does her best to avoid the squirting blood but her attempts to keep him still means she will be spattered. And then true stillness. Breathing heavily, Zara steps back, immediately looking for bandaging on the trolley to deal with the blood pouring from numerous bone pierced wounds.

And then they come.

Cockroaches. Large. Black. Their carapaces smeared with blood and tissue. They erupt from all the wounds at once, as if by command. Streaming out and over the body. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

"I don't think..." Abby starts replying to the question of whether or not Mister Rogers can hear Zara. Her voice halts for a moment, hands pulling away from the patient as she stares at the bone jutting through flesh, her face scrunched as she tries to work her way through what just happened here. She looks to the door, then looks to Zara expectantly. She's the doctor, after all.

And then, cockroaches. "Doctor!" She steps back and away, then reaches out in case Zara's too distracted searching for bandages to notice what's going on, wholly intent on tugging her along as the nurse backs off towards the door. "I'm 90% sure this is a nightmare or something, but I think we probably should get out of here, just in case..."

Zara is surprised by Abby's cry of alarm and tug. But then even more alarmed when she sees the reason. "Nightmare" She won't argue, though she may not be thinking of this as an actual dream like Abby is. Thankfully, she does quickly process that the patient is beyond saving - it's the way he doesn't seem to have any internal organs in the chest cavity that is teeming with writhing insects. Not just cockroaches. Millipedes. Earwigs. Unidentifiable things with far too many legs and pincers.

Zara slams an emergency alarm as they reach the door. But instead of a wailing siren, it plays 'Greensleeves'. The doctor looks a little confused before rushing out through the door with Abby.

There is no hospital there. Instead, it is a green, verdant forest in the gloom of twilight. Tall trees surround them. The mossy ground is damp at their feet. Zara looks to Abby. "What is going on?"

There's the exit, and that's where Abby is heading, away from Mister Rogers. She's very determined, very sure of this decision. She only glances back over one shoulder once they reach the door and 'Greensleeves' starts playing. Her whole face scrunches up again in another cringe as her eyes take in the spectacle of insects pouring out of the man. "I really shouldn't have looked," she mutters to herself as she steps outside.

Into the forest. Abby stops, looks around, and peels off her gloves, tossing them back towards the room (if it's even still there) with careless abandon. Then she looks at Zara. "I think it's a dream, right? Because of the cockroaches and - well..." The nurse gestures from the leafy canopy above to the damp moss beneath her colorful clogs.

"So... I don't know, think positive thoughts? Have you ever been in a dream and realized it was a dream and then you could kind of make things happen in it? I sometimes get those. Probably not this time." She rambles, looking around.

"A dream?" Zara sounds unconvinced but she's also short of alternative explanations. The door to the room has disappeared, so Abby will be a litterbug if she tosses those gloves away. Zara's breathing slows as she takes it all in, wiping her bloody forehead with a bloody sleeve before pouting at the awareness she is spattered with probably unhealthy fluids.

"If it's a dream...whose dream is it?" she asks with a tilt of her head in Abby's direction. "And you don't share dreams. That would be..." Zara's brow furrows in light pain as something tugs at her memories. Shining a little light on something she has so easily forgotten; perhaps even willingly forgotten. "When I worked at the asylum. There were patients that said the same thing..." A firm shake of head. "No. it's impossible we're sharing a dream." A deep breath as she too looks around.

"I just have to wake up, that's all. It's nice though. Shall we look around?" A little laugh at herself. "Why am I asking you? This is my dream, you're part of it, what happens happens. Right?"

"I feel like dream's the best case scenario here, right? The alternative's that we really just stepped out of a hospital room where there was a dead man full of bugs, and now we're in a forest..." Abby flails her hands vaguely all about their surroundings, then does a little exaggerated shrug. "So, I'm going with dream, but you can do whatever you want. That's fine!"

Abby takes a small step forward, hands on her hips as she looks about. "I used to think so, too. Turns out it's a thing, though, being in the same dream." She glances back at Zara with a small smile, warm but almost apologetic. "Not sure whose dream is it, though. I feel like I'm usually in someone else's dream rather than someone else being in mine. Which is a relief, 'cause that that could be really embarrassing."

"I suppose, out of all the things it could be, a shared dream is hardly the worst idea. Maybe you could tell me something about yourself that no one knows and when we wake up, I can ask you about it? If it's true...then I guess we shared a dream. if it's not...then you'll probably avoid me when we're on the same shift." At least there is some lightheartedness returning to Zara. "There are certainly cultures that believe in such things. The Dreamtime of the Australian Aboriginals for example. But it's not something the West has to deal with much."

Zara points at what could best pass as a trail. "Let's see if that goes anywhere." A glance down at her clothing. "Wish we didn't have to do the bug stuff." A smirk for Abby. "What exactly do you dream of that is so embarrassing?"

"I could just ask if you had a dream about cockroaches coming out of someone's chest cavity and then ending up in some woods..." Abby offers, with a tiny crease on her forehead as she gives Zara an amused look. "That seems like it's very specific already." She shifts, looking back in the direction of where the door was probably supposed to be if dreamspace made any kind of sense.

She gives the woods an apprehensive look, nose crooking at the trail. "If this leads to a gingerbread cottage, I'm not going in." She swallows, then looks over again, arching an eyebrow. "If you don't have dreams you'd be embarrassed to have other people peek into, your dreams are a lot more sensible than mine."

"I guess we could do that" Zara admits about the alternative way of determining what happened. "It's not as much fun...but we could do that." She starts walking down the natural trail, shoes squelching in the shallow mud. "No gingerbread cottage" Zara nods and laughs in agreement. "I've always tried not to dream about child-eating witches...though I've also tried not to dream about people having insect explosions."

"Nah, I have no shame. I don't get embarrassed. If someone wanted to look at my dreams, they'd probably be very bored. This is a nice forest though. Do you go camping, Abby?" Birds tweet musically in the air, though they all remain out of sight.

Abby follows the path alongside Zara, trying to pick grassier and leafier stretches near the edge to avoid stepping on too much mud. "It could be a nice witch's house, of course! Positive thoughts!" She touches her fingers to her temples, presumably to focus and project positive vibes into the woods around her. You never know.

"That sounds nice," she comments with a sidelong glance, smiling, though that's followed immediately by a little inward cringe. "Not being embarrassed, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'd rather not have anyone snoop in on my dreams, thank you! Oh. Not very often, but I have a few times. I like going for hikes in the woods, well... not so much around here."

Zara smiles warmly at Abby's positive persistence. "That's a worthy mindset you have, Abby. You were born to be a nurse. And, hey, if this is our dream, then because we have decreed it, it has to be a nice witch. We control our dreams." She's trying to be positive too.

"You do know that the more you say that you have things to hide in your dreams, the worse I imagine it could be" Zara smirks as she jumps from fallen tree to hard ground atop a ridge. "We should go hiking together some time. Why don't you go around here? Umm...around there. Oh...that's interesting."

Below them is a dark forested valley. The tops of the trees covered with a white silken substance. The trail they are on descends through the woods below, able to be glimpsed a few times in clearings. At the center of the forest, about a mile away, is a clearing. And in that clearing stands a door. Just a door. "What do you think? Is that the way out?" A beat. "Do you think we're asleep at work? That will get us in trouble."

Abby waves off the compliment with a little wince behind a sunny smile. "I just try to keep going, that's all! And I wish we did control our dreams, there would be a lot less bugs and a lot more... I don't know, kittens?" She offers. A moment later, she adds to it. "Nice kittens." Just in case. Then she gives Zara a look. "Oh, they're terrible! They're not really, but I'd still be embarrassed to be caught canoodling or something... Hmm. Sure? Well, I just don't feel terribly safe in the woods around here, with all the murders and mutant mountain cats and everything... There's nicer places, that's all!"

She stops, eyeing the valley below, and her nose scrunches up pensively. "I don't know. Are those - what is that? On the trees?" She squints slightly at the tree tops ahead. "Hmm? Oh. Well, time is funny in dreams, right? You can doze off for a tiny bit and all kinds of things happen in a dream."

"You mean canoodling with someone you shouldn't be?" Zara laughs. "Nothing wrong with canoodling with the right person. Though I guess there's the whole exhibitionism thing. Though, you wouldn't be an exhibitionist in your own dream, whoever was watching would be a Peeping Tom."

"I have yet to encounter a murderer in the forests around Gray Harbor." She knocks on a tree trunk. "Touch wood." Zara studies the tree tops. "The optimist in me wants to say they're silk strands produced by the tree's reproduction cycle. The pessimist thinks they look like spider webs. Lots and lots of spider webs." A screwing up of her nose in distaste before finding a smile for Abby. "What are you like with spiders?"

Zara checks the pockets of her clothing. "Do you have a lighter or matches or something similar?"

Abby makes a face, giving Zara a dubious look. "I'd just rather not have anyone looking in. I mean, I still don't want Peeing Toms peeping in on me even if I'm not doing anything wrong, right? No, thank you!" She holds her hands up and pushes out, as if shoving the notion away. Or possibly an imaginary Peeping Tom.

She returns her hands to her hips, studying the trees. "Oh, I'm fine with spiders... when they're itty bitty and alone. I'm not sure what's going on there. I suppose I'd prefer thousands of little spiders to a single giant spider, but I'm not really looking forward to finding out if it's either of those." Then she looks down at herself, still in her scrubs. "Can't say I do!"

"Okay" Zara giggles, "No more talk of Peeping Toms and canoodling." She scans the ground to find some reasonably dry sticks and tinder. Crouching down, she puts all those years of living in the wild to good use and starts a small fire as the chat.

"I think it was more than one spider that did all that webbing" she notes with a nod in the direction of the valley. "But I'm with you in hoping that it isn't a big one. Or more than one big one." As the fire burns, she finds some fallen branches and starts ripping her coat to wrap around one end. "It's a dream. My coat will be fine when we wake." Said more in hope than certainty.

Zara hands Abby a burning torch, taking one herself before putting out the fire. Forest safety even in a dream! "Let's go wake up." And down into the valley of death Zara strides.

Abby watches as Zara starts a fire. "I could never do that. It never works," she notes with a small sigh, before adding with a self-deprecating smile, "Not that I've tried in forever, but I never got the hang of it." She does accept the torch once it's handed over, holding it at a careful distance from herself. "Does this even work on spiders?"

She stays behind for a few seconds longer, hesitating before following in the doctor's tracks into the wooded valley. "I'm still hoping for a cottage. Or, if we can't get a cottage made of pastries, at least a coffee shop with pastries."

"Fire works on most things" Zara assures Abby. "Unless they are made of fire. And since this is a dream...let's hope we don't encounter any fire spiders." Why is she giving ideas to whomever this dream belongs to? "And the fire starting probably only worked because it is a dream. You could definitely have done it too."

"Are you a pastry connoisseur?" Zara asks as they enter the darkness of the trees, illuminated only by the torches in their hands. The sunlight above barely able to get through the layers and layers of gossamer webbing above them. The webs seem empty of spiders at least, though not empty of birds in various states of decay and consumption. There is even the occasional small animal trapped above them.

"Would you want to stop at a pastry cottage? Or keep heading for that door?" The trail winds its way through the trees. Where they entered lost behind them, their goal who knows how far ahead in the cold gloom.

"It's not a lot of fire, though," Abby remarks with a glance at the torch and a small shrug before swinging it carefully in front of herself, as if to gingerly battle some imaginary arachnid. "Spider webs are flammable, at least. I'd probably have to believe I could do it. I'm not sure I could pull it off..." she confesses.

"Connoisseur? Oh, no, I'm just a fan." She replies, voice lower and quieter now once they step into the gloom beneath the cobwebs. She looks up, mouth twisting slightly to the side in a highly uneasy look at the birds and little animalls trapped above. "If I see any dwarves hanging from the trees, I'm turning right around. Hmm? Well, maybe not go in. Maybe I could tear off a brick to nibble on along the way, though! Hopefully not gingerbread, I don't really like gingerbread."

"I'd be happy not to see anything at all" Zara whispers in return as eyes scan above them and feet trudge warily down the path. It winds so much that it feels they that where they started could be right behind a tree. Still, they keep going. Where else is there to go?

Perhaps that light they spot ahead. A yellow glow in the darkness between the trees. The path seems to be leading away from it but then swings in its direction, before veering off again. Though the light is closer now. It seeps through what can only be a window. "You may have found your house, Abby. Keep thinking sunny beaches and we might get that too." The path winds away again before curling back.

"We could always run straight for it" Zara suggests. "We can't be sure this path goes there. I'm starting to wonder if we can be sure it goes anywhere."

Abby glances at the webs overhead with a small wary frown, but flashes Zara a smile.. "Too late for that! And I'm not sure we should do the rest of the way with our eyes closed, either, so... I'll just keep an eye out." And so she does as she walks along. She starts to hum some vague, not particularly recognizable tune.

"Ohh. I don't know if that's a very good idea," is her first comment at the mention of the glow in the darkness, eyes narrowed as she peers into the darkness framing the lit window. "I'm thinking about a lot more interesting things than gingerbread houses and it's not happening." Then she stops in her tracks, glancing back along the path they followed here, then down the path ahead. She digs a hand into her pockets, comes out with a single throat lozenge. "I'm not sure this would help us leave a trail of crumbs."

"If only we had some pastry" Zara sighs before shaking her head about the lozenge. "It might melt before we got back...but good idea though."

Onward they go, keeping to the path. "What are you thinking about that could be more exciting than gingerbread?" Zara teases as, despite the torches, it is obviously getting darker. The sun must be setting in this strange place. The glowing light is closer. So much so, that it can be seen to be inside a small cabin of wood - no gingerbread or cake unless it is decorate. Smoke rises out of the chimney, coinciding with a sudden chill in the wanderers.

"We're pretty certain that anyone living in web covered woods is not someone we want to meet, right? So we keep on going. Straight past." And it does look like the path will go straight past the cabin. About two feet from the door.

"No, I don't think this would help at all, unless you have a sore throat," Abby remarks, contemplating the lozenge, squeezed between index and thumb. "It's probably very sticky," she adds, returning it to the pocket it came from. Then she continues forward, torch held out and away from herself, whether to light the path or scare away whatever might be lurking in the darkness.

"Oh, you know - chocolate cake houses?" Abby deflects with a shrug, free hand flailing slightly. Her footsteps slow as she comes near the house, lips drawn into a tight thin line in contemplation. "I don't know. I kind of like the whole witch in the woods aesthetic, very misunderstood! But probably not." And she sidles along to the far edge of the path from the cabin.

"We need to talk about your diet once we wake up" Zara teases as they near the house. "Chocolate cake is fine in small amounts but maybe bot a whole house." Though she is thankful that Abby's positivity is keeping up their spirits. She would certainly hate to be here alone. "Maybe you shouldn't keep the lozenge in your pocket? Just a thought."

Zara puts herself between the house and Abby as they slowly pass it. As quiet as they can be.

"Hello?" calls out an old woman's voice from behind the door - how cliche. "Is there someone out there?" The door slowly creaks open, light flooding outwards, as the silhouette of a figure appears. "What are you two doing out there? It's not safe. Come in."

"Well, I wouldn't eat the whole house, geeze, I'd just break off a piece of the windowsill or something," Abby explains with a small shake of her head, then a quiet hum, leaning in slightly to add, "And a little extra for the trail of crumbs. Oh. I didn't really have anywhere else to put it," she adds with a small pat to her pocket.

As they walk by the house, the voice catches Abby's attention, and she tilts her head to look over, squinting slightly at the silhouette and trying to peer past it and into the house. Still, she keeps her tone friendly. "Oh. Hi! Thank you so much, but we're just going - thataway."

Behind the silhouetted figure is what looks to be a cosy room out of the 18th Century. No mod-cons, lots of wood (alas, not cake), and a roaring fire against the chill outside.

"Thataway?" repeats the figure with a turn of the head in that direction. "Oh, no, you don't want to go there. Not unless you don't want to live. Thataway goes nowhere. Don't be frightened, come inside. Stop awhile with a lonely old lady before you head on home again." The old woman seems to have...whiskers. She beckons them towards her. "I won't bite and you both look like you could put your feet up for a little bit. It's much too dark to travel anyway, even if there was somewhere to go down there."

"We saw a door" explains Zara with a gesture down the path. "In the center of the forest. That's the way home." She's convinced at least.

"It's the way to someone's home but I doubt it's yours" the old woman replies.

Abby rests one hand on her hip, the other still holding the improvised torch a little off to her side. Her eyes move from the cabin, flicking a quick glance down the path before returning her attention to the old woman. "Oh. Whose home is it? Do you know how we can go home? Or - if not home, I don't know - somewhere nice?" She wonders in a friendly, conversational tone.

She squints her eyes, then, focuses. Breathes in. Positive thoughts. She looks around, then leans in towards Zara to whisper. "I wish this actually worked. Obviously the cabin showed up, but it's a little short on cake and - well, I'm pretty sure that's not who I was trying to think of."

"Who were you trying to think of?" Zara asides to Abby in reply before looking to the old woman. "Your generosity is much appreciated but we don't want to put you out." She discretely moves her torch towards the door, hoping to illuminate the features of the figure better.

"It's the home of the biggest spider you will have ever seen. Have you heard of trap door spiders, dear?" The woman asks Abby. "That's what that door is...a trap. You open it and you end up a meal. As for how to get you home, of course I can help you. You've helped Chickpea, so I will help you in return." The glow from Zara's torch reveals a bit more of the woman's face. A face that is rather...feline. Whiskers. Fur. Large cat eyes. All framed by the shawl she wears. "And I like to think my house is 'somewhere nice' until you get home."

"Hmm? Oh, just - celebrity crushes, that sort of thing. Maybe a bus?" Abby replies in a mutter, a flick of her hand waving it off as she glances both ways up and down the path. Her attention returns to the woman in the cottage, then, an eyebrow rising sharply at the mention of trap door spiders. "That's pretty clever of it, but -"

"Chickpea?" She tilts her head, light creases above her raised eyebrows as she stares at the oddly feline woman's face. "Oh. You know Chickpea? Small world!" Abby replies, in a very deliberately conversational tone. Because she might as well pretend all of this is normal. It's a dream, after all. "See, the thing is, I don't actually know how to get home, so - I'm sure your house is very nice, thank you so much - but how do I actually go home? Unless you have, maybe a wardrobe with a secret door in the back? I always wanted to have one of those."

"I'd hate to see what the buses would be like in here" Zara asides to Abby before her concentration is back on the strange woman. Of course, in a dream, a trap door would be an actual door.

"Isn't Chickpea your cat, Abby?" The old woman does look like a cat...much more than those in that movie last Christmas...so maybe all cats know each other in dreams? Zara's brow furrows at such thinking. "Is there something we have to resolve?" she asks Cat-Gran. "Because, in most of my dreams, I don't resolve anything. I usually end up wondering why I was dreaming of that or them in the first place."

Cat-Gran snickers at the pair, shaking her head in that understanding/patronizing/amused way one does when dealing with 'small children' and their crazy ideas. "If you really want to go home, then I will show you the way home. Home is where the heart is, after all. And if your hearts are with you, then you are already home." She steps back into her house and gestures for them to follow. "Maybe your heart is in the back of a wardrobe, Amy. Is that where you hide it?"

"Not that kind of..." Abby starts, but trails off since there are more important matters at hand than buses. "Chickpea is my cat. She's got over two thousand Instagram followers, so I'm not surprised she's well-known in dreamland," she sounds very proud of that, even if her tone is joking. And accompanied by a wink. But she's got a friendly smile for the cat cottage person too. A friendly if somewhat apprehensive look.

"Oh, I definitely want to go home! It's kind of spooky here, and I'm not really looking forward to running into any huge spiders today," she replies with a small shrug and a confused glance in Zara's direction. The old woman gets a more pensive, inquisitve look. "I'm kind of not sure what that means. My heart? Why would it be in a wardrobe? Do you mean a closet? That would make a lot more sense, but not really?"

"Exactly, why would your heart be in a wardrobe or closet?" answers Cat-Gran. "So, if home is where the heart is, why would there be a door in a wardrobe to it, unless you kept your heart in a wardrobe." Dreams do have severe logic leaps in them. This could be another. "So, where is your heart, Abby? That is where your home is. You can't find your way home if you don't know where it is."

Zara looks equally as confused as Abby. "You mean, where is my figurative emotional heart? Like...family? Self-worth?" They're talking to a cat woman about home and hearth...Zara really needs to lay off that vending machine tea. She steps into the house, it is definitely warmer in there. "My family are up north...or in my world they're up north. As to where my heart is...my home...it's wherever I am. I roam around a lot. I go where people need me."

Abby is trying to follow Cat-Gran's logic, fingers tapping along her jaw as her head tilts. As if that might help her follow the conversation from a slightly different angle, but it's not helping. Not that she looks confused, just very mildly put off by the question, even if she keeps her amiable smile on. Because a peeve is no reason not to be friendly! "Ooh, that's easy. I did pretty well in Anatomy and Physiology. It's in my thoracic cavity." It seems Abby has decided to go the smartass route rather than braving the swamps of introspection. "And my home's at 33 Spruce Street, I'm pretty sure! But you probably know that, because that's where Chickpea lives too."

"Awww...you only think of home as bricks and mortar?" Cat-gran frowns a little at Abby before nodding. "That is indeed where Chickpea resides but their home is wherever you are." The feline woman settles down on a seat next to the fireplace, picking up some knitting to continue. "If that is where you desire to be, Abby, then there are a lot of Spruce trees outside. I suppose yours would be the thirty-third. If you prefer a shell to be your home, rather than the warmth of life, then you will find it outside. You may even see a guide."

Abby's brow tightens again, not quite a frown. She drops a hand to her hip, the other still carefully holding the torch away from herself, like she's not quite sure what to do with it. After a small pause, spent staring curiously at the feline old lady, she speaks up with a little
shrug, "Well, that's where my cat is, and my life and all my things. So we're really just talking about the same thing, I think. It feels like we are! So I think I'll go look for that thirty third spruce tree, then!" She turns, pointing down the path outside. "Thank you so much!"

Realising they are on their way again, Zara heads on outside with a nod of goodbye to Cat-Gran. The latter making no attempt to stop there, or rise from her chair, instead happy to give them a wave, a smile, and a "Watch out for spiders."

Once outside and the door closed, Zara starts slowly down the path. "Interesting lady" she offers with more concern than sincerity. "Though if you have any idea which is the thirty-third Spruce then I am in awe of you" she smiles. "At least I do know what a Spruce looks like. Dreams are all about symbols, right? Or is it literal? She was trying to convince us that home is within us all along. To lose a reliance on objects and place and look inwards." A laugh. "Maybe we're already home?"

Abby steps outside, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, head shaking. "She seemed very nice! But I really just want to wake up, I can do without the deep thoughts on life, thank you very much!" She takes a few steps forward onto the path, looks around, hums softly, then sets off resolutely. "I'll start counting, and when I reach number thirty three, that's it! That's easy."

Having solved that problem (because she's decided that's how you solve it), she continues, musing. "Oh, I really hope I'm home and asleep in my bed or the couch and not asleep in the middle of the grocery store. But pinching myself hasn't worked, so I'm stuck here for now, I guess. "

"I hope we're not asleep in the break-room. Dreams are always metaphorical...except for those ones about celebrity crushes I guess" Zara shrugs before helping count the Spruce trees. "Let's hope it is that 'easy'." A beat. "Should we try pinching each other?"

The thirty-third tree towers over them, the trunk thicker than them both standing next to each other. It is also covered with webbing. A goose of all things struggles in the in front of them, flapping madly at the sticky strands. Zara immediately moves to help it.

Abby tilts her head, giving it some thought as she walks. "I think the break's probably still better than the grocery store or somewhere like that. I don't know, a lot of mine are just silly nonsense..." Abby wrinkles her nose slightly, then lets slip a giggly snort. "Nnno, I think - I don't think the pinching thing works."

Coming to the thirty-third tree, once it's counted, Abby stops, squinting up at it. "Well - I don't see any doors!" She does see the goose, and gives it a mildly skeptical look. "I'm not sure that's a - it's not a real goose, is it? Be careful! Geese can be temperamental!" She warns the other woman, but steps closer, holding up the torch.

"Have you never heard of the Spruce Goose?" Zara replies with a laugh as she does her best to get close without being hit by the snapping bill. "Calm down, birdy" she whispers to the bird before resuming talking to Abby. "I guess one of us has since it's in our dream. Damn, this web is sticky. Almost got you, birdy..."

With a loud squawk, the goose drops to the ground, shaking itself clear of loose web strands before adopting an imperious pose along the lines of 'I was fine, you didn't need to help'. It honks at both of them, eyeing them off like a royal inspects commoners. It moves its head upon its long neck like its doing a hairflip before striding into the tree trunk and disappearing from view.

"I guess that's the door" Zara muses before gesturing for Abby to lead the way.

Abby gives Zara a look, a small crease forming on her brow as she thinks about it. "The Spruce Goose? That sounds kinda familiar, but... is it a story?" She wonders, though her attention is on the bird, slightly wary in case the goose gets up to any dangerous shenanigans once it's freed. You never knw, with geese.

She glances from the goose to Zara when it drops and gives them that look, shoulders moving in an almost imperceptible shrug. "That's a sassy goose," she whispers, but her eyes are already opening wide as it disappears into the tree trunk. "Oh! If we're actually asleep in the hospital and there's a goose there when we wake up, I'm saying i didn't do it."

Then she eyes the tree. Her face scrunches up doubtfully. "I hope I don't just - slam into it - okay!" And she holds her hands forward, just in case, so she doesn't run nose-first into a solid spruce, takes a deep breath, and steps forward.

"The Spruce Goose was a giant plane that barely got off the ground. Howard Hughes' pet project for the war effort. Or something" Zara replies before a humorless laugh. "Let's hope that is not a metaphor for our lives. I guess we should call this one the Sassy Goose."

A laugh about the possibility of a goose in the hospital before Zara crosses her fingers when Abby steps forward. She has nothing to worry about. Abby continues to walk forward, the tree, and the whole world around her, melting into an oblivion of black. But then she wakes up.

Zara awakes, as she feared, in the hospital break room. A quick glance at the clock suggests she has been asleep for less than a minute. "That was quite the microsleep" she mutters to herself before wiping some drool away from the corner of her mouth. "Classy, Zara" she smirks. No goose to be seen.

Abby wakes up, not as she feared, but worse, in the hospital bathroom. Sitting on the toilet. Look, it's been a very long day and the ways of Dream are mysterious. Fortunately, and she verifies this by peeking under the stall, there are no geese in the restroom. The lone white feather ominously resting on the tile turns out to just be a piece of toilet paper.

So, Abby eventually gets out of the bathroom, once she's washed up and splashed some water on her face to focus. "Well, okay!" And she steps out into the hallway after checking her watch, tapping the nearest wall with her knuckles to test for solidity. Everything seems pretty solid, so she continues along the way, deciding to have a peek in the break room, just in case Zara's there.

"Hello?" She peeks in through the crack, because you never know where the goose might've ended up.

A familiar voice! Zara leaps to her feet and fully opens the door. "Hey" she greets, looking a little embarrassed - her dream etiquette is terrible. 'Umm...this is going to sound really strange but...have you ever met a cat person? Not a person interested in cats but an actual person who was also a cat." Totally reasonable question to ask someone out of the blue.

"Never mind. I obviously needed a break. But..best get back into the grind now."

It's an odd question, so Abby stands in the doorway and stares at Zara, blinking. Then she does the tiniest of winces, and takes two seconds before answering. "Oh. No, not really."

Then, in a softer voice. "In dreams, though, twice. The first one was much scarier than this one, though."

Zara is rather embarrassed at Abby's first response. What was she thinking? Of course Abby hasn't met any..twice? Now it's Zara's turn to blink. "Glad I didn't get the scary one" she whispers. "We were both in a dream? Together?" This does seem familiar to Zara. Not from their dream conversations but from some long buried memories.

More urgent activity in the corridors outside suggest another Emergency emergency. "We should talk about this later, Abby. But I think we're needed in the real world."

"It wasn't so bad! Well, it was. It was in the hospital too, but my patient was... oh, nevermind. But to answer your question, yes, we were. It's - well, it's not the first time it's happened to me," she adds in a soft voice, barely a whisper, trying to give Zara a reassuring smile. See? It's perfectly normal. Abby is going to treat it like it's perfectly normal and fine and nothing worth panicking about. No big deal.

"Oh. Well. Hopefully it's not... bugs." And that's accompanied by a thumbs-up as Abby steps back from the door. Positive thinking! "Sure, we can talk about this later!"