Last night/this morning: fade in, I working in a lab/hospital (lab coat on anyway) and a female coworker walks up to me and tells me that I'll have to get my stuff out of the freezer as new supplies are coming in and they need the room. I open the freezer and two of my rifles and ammo are in there. When removing them a guy walks up and says "those look like fun, lets go shoot at the range in the basement". In the basement we walk past a morgue to get to the range, stick rounds in our ears for sound protection and then start loading the clips. As I push the shells in, the ammo morphs into black ballistic syringes and I'm struggling because the business end keeps popping up and I don't want to get stuck. Then dreamus interruptus, one of the dogs jumped onto the bed.
Being told you're delusional does not necessarily mean you're mental.
