The dream sort of seemed reminiscent of Crazy as Hell.  I was in a bedroom standing next to my maternal Grandma Jane.  Someone came in and gave me little sticks and told me to give two to Grandma Jane.  Hers were cinnamon sticks, I'm not sure what mine were.  I don't know how that segued into the dream, but the group of us were to go down to the hospital.  There was a certain patient near the end of the wing we were supposed to see.  It was a short black man, who looked pretty out of it because of the drugs.  I don't remember why we were supposed to see him or what happened right then.  He might have grabbed my wrist or something, but it became apparent he was dangerous.  We tried to leave.  In the car on a country road, we saw him again- this time he was big and muscular, pointing in a direction and laughing at us.