Medicine Dream

So, last night, I had another weird dream; it's the first time that I have been able to remember a dream since last week, when I had memorable dreams almost every night. In the dream, the marching band had to play for some sort of awards ceremony for outstanding student achievement in physical education classes. I remembered thinking in the dream that people like Terry and Chandler were probably going to be there, the valedictorians of athletic awards. The building in which the ceremony was located was on Fifth Street, close to where the library would be in real life. The main hall of the building was huge, with a long aisle down which the marching band and the recipients of the athletic awards would march. We, the marching band, prepared to make the long march down the aisle to the podium, putting on our uniforms and scrambling to our places in line. All of the boys wore their usual uniforms, while the girls wore old-fashioned wedding dresses. I stood in my usual spot, in front of the snares and behind the quads, clutching the cymbals, when I heard a minor argument taking place somewhere to our left. I looked over to behold the stereotype of scientists, in white lab coats, gloves, and translucent goggles. They were huddled together, speaking in low, anxious tones. Since we had about five minutes to spare, I decided that I would approach and ask what the problem was. I walked over and noticed that the wiry-framed scientist who seemed to be the leader of the group was clutching a beaker that was half-filled with a cloudy green substance that was frothing slightly.

"Sodium did not work." one of the other scientists said.

"I think I realized that, thank you," the leader scientist snapped, "But we need to find something that will perfect this medicine. That boy needs it before he marches down the aisle." He pointed at a tall, athletic blond boy who sat on a bench near the entrance, grimacing with pain as he clutched his ankle.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

One of the younger scientists turned to me. "He's got a sprained ankle." she said.

While the scientists quarreled some more, I pulled from nowhere the periodic table that just happened to exist at that moment. I searched for sodium on the poster, and when I found it, I looked at the elements above and below it, in the same family. I picked the one on the very bottom, figuring (with the small amount of chemistry knowledge that I possess) that the bottom element would be the most potent, while still having the same amount of valence electrons (I don't remember which element it was).

Returning to the group of scientists with the poster, I asked them, "Have you guys tried this element yet?" I presented my argument for its validity. The scientists were impressed, and shocked.

"Of course!" said the leader. "How could we not have thought of this element? Eric, lets get a sample of it to test in the medicine." Eric, a small, blond man, pulled a capped tube from his pocket, uncorked it, and tipped it over the beaker. The solution inside immediately became a warm, red color. The scientists whooped.

"This is it!" said the leader, clapping Eric on the back. "This is definitely the cure for a sprained ankle. Hey, kid! Come over here - drink this!" The boy sitting on the bench hobbled over to the group of scientists, drank the solution, gingerly put his weight on his previously-injured foot, and grinned when he did not feel pain. The scientists broke into another chorus of celebration.

Just then, the ceremony began, and I had to sprint to make it back into my place in the line. As we slowly marched up the aisle, I could hear a faceless man who stood at the podium up front announce the names of all the Reynolds students who had exceeded athletic expectations that year.

"Also," he said towards the end of his announcements, as we came closer to the front of the room. "We'd like to acknowledge a student who has made a great contribution to modern medicine on this day, Robyn Witt, the co-creator of the cure for sprained ankles!"

The room exploded. Everyone applauded and whooped for my accomplishment. I felt quite proud of myself in that moment. It was about here that I woke up.