I am at my station/office in a hall-like room. A woman next to me has started work today so she doesn't know too much about how things run. We are setting up some display that is important. She has a great big female doll, sort of a floppy stuffed cloth doll. I have a male doll, a design in black rock on metal. It is much smaller than the female doll. We each go to place the dolls on this table, box, altar place. Her doll takes up most of the space and I disapprove. My doll is the King (Jesus?), after all, and more important. While I am adjusting them, this man comes up and talks about his disability and how hard it is. I am annoyed at him. He's obviously feeling sorry for himself. My disability is obviously much worse than his, but I try, somewhat absentmindedly, to talk with him sympathetically. I go back to my "office" area. It's nearly quitting time. The phone rings and this same man says, with admiration in his voice, "I'm the one you helped, the one with the bunny leg in a cast," meaning his disability was so slight, if it existed at all, that he had a stuffed bunny's leg in his cast. He thinks I'm wonderful and helped him so much. I am embarrassed and thank him for the positive feedback. It's not often people take the time to tell me I did a good job. I look down at the bandage on my thumb (left one). It is now soaked in blood. I am concerned and end the phone conversation. I point it out to the woman next to me (the one new to the job), and she unwraps the gauze. The tip of my thumb has an oval shaped hole in it and is bleeding. I decide I need to go see the Doctor about this. I'm aware it's a minor cut but I'll feel better if a doctor looks at it and bandages it right. So I walk through halls, turning here and there. I come to a place where if I turn right, I go downstairs to the University Dr. (An.) and the plays. (Jock is there and for a moment I think he's Dr. An. Jock looks like a bearded wimpy counselor from OCA.) I choose to turn left, upstairs, to the community college doctor's clinic. As I'm walking upstairs, I pass rooms where operatic concerts are being performed. I see two people standing on the steps listening. I see a cat curled up on a carpeted stair sleeping. I think it's nice, I can hear the concert as I pass by. I then get to the top and have to step over a low counter to get to the right corridor. I realize the blood has stopped by now and it seems silly to go on and see the doctor, but I decide to anyway. They can wrap it better than me.