BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRM

My dream started with Paul and I making smoke rings. I was in a place I didn't recognize, but it was reminiscent of a neighborhood like Oakcrest Estates (pretty sure we were in a cul de sac). Paul had said he was feeling sick, so he went to the doctor, and he got a phone call with his test results. Apparently he had something very serious and needed to take some medicine (that I guess we had) on the half hour for the next 14 hours if he wanted to live. For some reason, the disease sounded familiar but the cure sounding really far-fetched, like I had had it and was told something else. I told Paul good luck, but that I was worried that cure didnn't seem right. Paul ended up leaving, and then I don't remember the specifics of how it happened, but there was definitely a car chase. I remember jumping onto the side of a car from another one, trying to take the driver out, it was pretty intense. Afterwards, I stopped by England (it wasn't in Europe, it was just some weird city near where we were, but everyone had English accents and such). I went to a hospital there, and I remember them treating me very weirdly. One woman was talking to me as if I was about to slip into a coma, offering me a bed where I can "sleep away from everyone" and other ewird things. She asked if I wanted a sort of blended food concotion, and when I told her I wanted real food, she said "Oh that's really good, you might wake up soon" which freaked me out enough to leave the hospital. I returned to the cul de sac, and now there was a whole big group of people loitering around (Steve, Tim, Katie, Courtney of note, then a buncha random people). We were taking pictures for some group we all belonged to, so a few of us were posing. Steve asked me what I had been up to the last few days, and when I went to answer I was incredibly confused, because I didn't know.  I starte thinking harder and harder, and then it all hit me at once. The strange disease Paul had gotten wasn't his disease, it was mine. The doctors had told ME abou the cure, which we followed to a T. After that, instead of killing me, the disease knocked me into a coma. Some of the strange things I heard in the English hospital made sense; the nurses were talking in my room, and I could hear them, and that translated into my coma dream. Then, I broke off from everyone and desprately started trying to wake myself up (from the coma, not this particular dream, though he even knows at this weird point). The last thing I ended up trying was bulding a tower to the sky, hoping it would let me escape, and then I woke up.