Is it normal to keep having these waking dreams

Is it normal to keep having these waking dreams?

I hear sirens; really loud buzzing in my ears like a fly is caught there. I flick up a hand to brush it away but there's some sort of resistance. I can't lift my hand. I am swaying over to one side and now back to center, in a nauseating movement. Am I lying flat on something hard? Could I be in some sort of vehicle? My eyelids are too heavy to lift, feels like something is resting on them. I can lift one of my legs a little way and so I kick out and feel the thwump of an impact on what feels like soft flesh. A grunt answers my action, confirming its accuracy. When did I get so unfit? So weak?

There's an underlying sound of panting, of asthmatic breath being heaved into constricted lungs punctuated by the occasional dry cough, and still the sirens above it all whine piercingly. I try to lift the other arm to meet again that same resistance. There are voices now, deep and unrecognizable. I strain to hear the words, their meaning but the wheezing and the shrieking get in the way.

There is an unpleasant smell here too. Strongly alcoholic: whiskey. Ned used to smell like that. Don't go there, Cade. Also I think I am hot, very hot. I must have a fever. Yes, I must be delirious. Mom will come soon and give me medicine, stroke my hair and cool me with a damp cloth, which she will wipe tenderly across my brow. And she will speak softly to me about her dreams, about how much I mean to her, about how I am her treasure and that whatever happens she will always love me.

Relaxing for a minute despite the nausea, I try to work out what is happening to me. I'm in a moving vehicle, it's dark or maybe my eyes are closed. If they are closed maybe I can open them? I concentrate hard, trying to ignore the fly in my ear. That persistant buzzing fly. No. They won't open. It's still dark. Am I scared? I can't decide.

I'm draining away.

Then I feel someone grab my arm and I lash out with my feet again. "Leave me alone," but the words are locked in my mind, my voice won't work. There is something I have to stop him doing. I hear a voice, a familiar voice but I don't know whose it is. It's a man's voice. "Whatever happens don't let them give you an IV."

Instinctively I push the man away again as the sirens stop at last and I feel the motion cease and a sound of doors swinging open under force. More unintelligable voices and a refreshing blast of cold air caresses my hot body. Now I am being carried into a building, wheeled along a smooth floor where the smells are of blood and antiseptic and fear. The sounds of footfalls are echoing beneath the buzzing.

I am becoming more detached from my body. I'm losing my senses one at a time. Did I take something? Was it drugs? Is this another dream? The motion stops but my breaths are still shallow and painful. Someone lifts up my arm and speaks, not to me, to another person in the room. Finally I crack my eyes open a slit and glimpse a blur of white coats.

It's a hospital. A very strange one. There is something I must do.

I have to remember.