in a dark house that belongs to none of us, my two friends insist they need me to go get alcohol for them because i have my ID and they don’t.
in a iiving room packed with random crap.  my sister is there.  we are wearing gowns that mean we’re in the past again.  she’s going through the junk in the room in search of tiny little books, smaller than a fingertip.  there are miniature book cases with glass doors full of them.  she is careful to put them back on the right shelf.  i tell her it’s pointless, we’ll never know if she’s found the right one and there are so many hidden in a million places.  she is silent and determined.  she keeps searching.  a little man dressed like svengoolie is there urging her on.  he wants all of the “professional” books! he wants all medical information from only the finest sources! i’m annoyed.  won’t everything be outdated already? we look through drawers and boxes for the bitty books.  i hold a drawer that is full of glass bulbs.  like light bulbs without the screw top or the filament. they are used as mannequin busts for sewing doll clothes. disintegrating yellowing cloth is pinned around a bulb, a half-made dress for a tiny girl. in the middle of the room my sister is working around a man laying on a hospital gurney in a hospital gown.  a nurse is there and she is not kind.  the man keeps asking for something to eat as he recovers from surgery.  she tells him to fatten up so he’s ready to be butchered.  he doesn’t listen to her.  he’s only interested in the ice cream he’s been handed.  i tell him not to eat it, that he needs to pay attention.  the nurse tells me to mind my own business and let him enjoy his treat.
someone bursts in.  they’ve found a dog in a ditch.  he’s in some kind of shape.  they bring him in and it’s the present again.  but the dog is my sister’s dead dog.  alive, stitched together like frankenstein’s monster. she’s overwhelmed at seeing him again, hugging and kissing him, crying.  she doesn’t even seem to notice the stitches.
i wonder if he’s been a patient of the nurse.