His dream

"I have this reoccurring dream. I'm asleep, which is funny because I already am, but all of a sudden I'm woken up by a cold draft on my face. I open my eyes and its a group of people looking at me, leaning very close over me. They're talking to me and at first I can't hear them, only feel their breath on my face. Then my ears kick in and they're asking me if I'm okay. I sit up and see that I was laying on a tile floor. I don't know what they're talking about. They point to my arm. Its bleeding. The blood dosn't look real, it looks instead like movie blood or something like that, kind of like Kool Aide, red and runny. There's a gash in my arm, blood is coming from it, again they ask me if I'm ok. I nod and tell them its fine. They seem almost skeptical. I reach for a towl and rap it around the wound. They ask me how my head is and start examining it and I reach up and start feeling around too but can't feel anything; no bump, no gash, nothing. They ask about my arm and ask if I need to go to the hospital. I tell them its not a bad cut, I don't think, and that it just needs to cloat. I sit and wait. I wait for the blood to cloat, but it dosn't. It just keeps gushing. I tie the towl tighter and pretty soon its red and dripping with blood. All of a sudden no one seems to care anymore, but I'm freaking out. I say that I need to get help, they tell me I'm fine. A pool starts forming at my feet. I start to sweat. I say I need to get to a hospital and they tell me that they'd take me but all of their cars are broken. The wound keeps leaking. Panic sweat and blood almost seem to mix. I ask if it looks alright, they say yes, but hows the head? My head is fine, I think. Outside I hear sirenes. I wish one of them would stop. I start to panic and the sirenes get closer, but never stop. Soon after I wake up. What do you think?"
"I'm not Freud," I say. "Dreams are a thousand things."