I am in a hospital room that doesn't really look like a hospital room. I had had two minor operations on my left foot and this morning I am going to go home. I see a huge bran muffin for my breakfast. Two other patients come in and dance for their exercise. They wear hospital gowns (one male and one female). They dance this a bit awkward like puppets on a string. I say, "At least the man has good-looking legs." A woman patient in another bed in my room complains she doesn't feel like dancing. I say, "Sure, it's good for you," and get out of bed to walk around the ward for a moment. I walk down the halls in a square and am amazed how well I feel, how much energy I have. I come back into the room excited about getting out of the hospital. A loudspeaker behind my head on the wall speaks. It is a man talking to me and I realize he's talking to the wrong customer (patient). I say angrily, "That's not me. My father's name is M and we lived in M City." I am angry that he mixed me up with someone else. Now my doctor is in the room, sort of a Michael J. Fox or Dr. Fleischman. I like him. He tells me I can't go home but must have another operation, this one a big one. I am angry at him now. Why didn't he tell me this before? He describes the operation. It will be on the right side of my head and will involve a fusion device sticking out of my head (like the one I had on left ankle). It will also involve my speech center for awhile. They will provide me with codes to use to communicate with until the speech returns. I say to him, "Well, are you sure you know what you're doing? You were working on my left foot and now you're doing my head!!"