I swear, my dreams are just television at this point. This time, I’m a…nurse, maybe? I know I’m working in a hospital. I go into check on one patient and find that it’s none other then television’s late Sherman Hemsley.
Apparently, I get pretty chatty with Mr. Hemsley. I manage to hold back an “I loved you in ”Amen!'” the whole time, luckily. Eventually I find out he’s dying here in the hospital. He points at a giant pack of Charmin toilet paper and tells me to take it with me. Apparently, he hates whatever TP the hospital uses, so he brings his own. I tell him that I can’t take anything out of a patient’s room (also that I don’t want to explain why the hell I’m carrying around a Sam’s Club sized pack of Charmin). He persists, and also insists on helping me take it to my car. Even though he’s dying, I suppose he’s in good enough health to carry stuff around. Also, no one bothers to stop us as a patient is just leaving their room and the hospital. About this time, I begin to wake up, so I can only assume I thanked Mr. Hemsley for his generosity and went on my day.