The Myrtle Beach Dream
in which my boyfriend and I rescue Eight and Grace off the side of the road and give medical treatment
(I had this dream in March 2015, right after seeing the Eighth Doctor TV movie for the first time)
Real Memories the Dream Uses
My boyfriend and I actually went on vacation to Myrtle Beach, SC in 2011. Unlike the following dream, it rained for about ~70% of our visit, including the day we went by a little strip mall near Socastee High School to find a little Magic: the Gathering card shop that had been open back in 2007. We got there only to find that the shop was closed and gone, and so I just drove back to the hotel in the driving rain.
Dream Events
It is blisteringly hot and humid, well over 100 degrees even before the heat index kicks in, and the sky is free of clouds, allowing the sun's full fury to hit the earth. My little hatchback's A/C is on maximum and barely beating back the heat, so even getting out of the car to check the shop door is nigh on to unbearable. We find that the card shop is closed for good, so we get back in the car.
I turn right out of the strip mall parking lot to get back onto Socastee Boulevard, a four-lane road with a central turning lane, and start to build up speed. But then I catch sight of two people, a man and a woman, on the sidewalk to my left, walking the opposite way. As we just about pass them, the man crumples to the ground--not like an "I tripped on the sidewalk" fall, but a collapse.
I turn to my boyfriend, with a gasp. "Did you see that?!"
"Yeah, yeah, I saw it!"
"OK, I'm turning around--hang on!"
I pull a quick 180 in the road and pull up to the curb where the fallen man is still lying on the sidewalk--and I recognize that the woman is Grace Holloway, and that the man is the Eighth Doctor, long heavy green coat and everything! Grace is not really freaking out much, being a medical professional, but she IS concerned. I put the car in Park and both me and my boyfriend get out of the car to help.
My first thoughts, upon seeing Eight, are that:
1) he's badly sunburned, so he's definitely been out in the sun too long;
2) he's not sweating, which means he's likely dehydrated;
3) the skin that isn't sunburned is a sickly color, which may mean heatstroke.
I say most of this out loud, and Grace, surprised, replies, "Wait a minute, are you a doctor?" (Eight comes around a little at that and mumbles incoherently, "No, I'm the Doctor..." LOL)
"No, I ain't, but we've got to get him some attention," I say. "I don't know where the emergency room is, though."
"Me either," Grace answers. "I thought I knew where I was, but this doesn't look like anywhere in California. Are we in Oregon or something?"
"Oh, Lord," I reply, surprised, "you're on the wrong coast--this is Myrtle Beach, South Carolina!"
Grace facepalms. "Oh, GOD. And I thought--I thought I knew where we were." She looks down at Eight. "And I made him walk all this way for nothing!"
Without much further ado, we get Eight into the back seat of my car, and my boyfriend sits in the back seat with him to try to stabilize him. Since we don't have a GPS or smartphone among us (well, in 2011 we sure didn't, anyway), I decide to drive us all back to our hotel; the emergency room would likely make us wait hours for treatment, and both Grace and I know what to do for Eight.
On the way back to the hotel, Grace, who's riding shotgun, tells me what brought them here; the TARDIS was still having problems navigating after its scrape with the Master, and they ended up on a random suburban street she thought she recognized. They had left the TARDIS to search for a convenience store and ask for directions, but by the time Eight collapsed on the side of the road, they had been walking close to three hours with no luck.
"Three hours? Jesus!" I say. "You need as much care as he does!"
She shakes her head. "I wasn't wearing that big coat--I'm dressed lighter, at least. And..." She bites her lip. "Ugh, I just should have known better."
Arriving back at the hotel with two six-packs of bottled water, my boyfriend and I help a barely-conscious Eight into the lobby, into the elevator, and up the five floors to our room, while Grace handles the water. The hotel rooms here are more like condos than a one-room and bathroom affair--there's a bathroom right near the door, then a closed-in bedroom, then a long hallway past the bedroom into a sunken living room, kitchenette, and balcony, all facing the ocean. We settle Eight on the couch, hanging up the velvet coat on a nearby chair.
"Ice compresses," Grace says, appraising Eight's condition. "Quick as we can."
My boyfriend grabs ice from the machine next floor down, and then Grace and I start a "compress brigade," soaking washcloths in ice water, wringing them out, and applying them to Eight's forehead, the back of his neck, and the inside of each elbow. After about 10 minutes, I pull off the first compress we put on his forehead, and am astonished to feel that it's as hot as if we had nuked it in the microwave. (I'm not ignoring Grace during this time, either, though she'll hardly sit down long enough to sip from the bottles of water I keep pushing at her.)
Finally, after what seems like an hour of back-and-forth work, Eight regains consciousness long enough to bolt an entire bottle of water. He's still pretty confused as to what happened, but at least he's talking--somewhat. "Oh, I've got a terrible headache," he murmurs, over and over, clutching his head, shielding his eyes from the light pouring through the glass door leading to the balcony.
Remembering that I carry 200mg Advil tablets in my purse at all times, I dig them out and am about to give 3 of them to Eight, when Grace catches sight of what I'm doing. "Oh, no," she warns, shaking her head. "No, absolutely not."
"What? It's just Advil!" I hold the pills out for her to examine.
"No, you--you don't understand," she replies, frustrated. "Look--come over here, I've got to tell you something." When she's pulled me over to the side, she says tersely, "He's not human."
My first reaction: "WHAT?!" (Not sure why I reacted that way in the dream, but it was funny)
"Look, I don't understand it either, but--but he's just not human. I've killed him once, I'm not gonna kill him again."
This is all really weird for me, but I nod. "Well--what about, like, half a Tylenol or something? I mean, acetaminophen shouldn't hurt him, should it?"
"Hmm," she says, considering. "Well--I don't think it would, though I don't know. Wait, how do you know drug names like that?"
"My parents are pharmacists!"
"Oh."
This seems to be a satisfactory answer for Grace at last, and so we divide a handy Tylenol in half and give it to Eight, with another bottle of water. Observing him over the next 30 minutes or so, he doesn't seem to take any ill effect from it, so we give him the other half of the pill, plus another one for good measure. This seems to work, and Eight finally comes around into full consciousness at last, sitting up and able to talk.
My boyfriend hasn't been idle during this time--he's been on my laptop looking up the neighborhoods around Socastee High School, pulling up Google Street View to find any landmarks that Grace or Eight might recognize. So far, there's been very little luck, though Grace has admittedly not been paying much attention to the computer screen until Eight's condition got stabilized. Now that Eight is feeling better, it seems Grace is more focused than ever on finding the TARDIS.
While Grace and my boyfriend are busy searching, I take a moment to talk to Eight. "You feeling pretty good now?" I ask, sitting beside him on the couch.
"Yes," he answers, though the word is shaky. "I regret I don't remember much after leaving the TARDIS, though. I'm feeling a bit useless at the moment."
"Well, I think we'll find something soon." I nod my head toward Grace. "She cares about you too much to let you get stuck here."
"Hmm." He nods, slightly, but there is doubt in his eyes. "If she'll stay, she'll be the best companion I could ask for." There is a sad resignation in his voice, though, and I kind of awkwardly pat his hand a little, not knowing how to comfort him.
An exclamation from Grace draws my attention then--"Wait a minute, I remember that house! That has to be close to the TARDIS!" We gather around the computer, seeing the address (though I can't read it in the dream), and while we start preparing to leave for that street, the dream slowly fades and I wake up.