This was such a persistently powerful dream last night. I awoke from it twice in befuddlement, sure that I’d forgotten to do something that had to do with my shots. When was I supposed to take them? There was a sequence. But wait —

In the dream, only women were originally receiving the shots. They were happy about it. We were all walking around outside, following neat sidewalks in sunshine. The shots were self-injected. A red powder in a miniature Erlenmeyer flask, I don’t know what it combatted. The injections needed to be given in a specific time sequence that was established by people’s DNA, age, and where they lived. As the women went about, happily self-injecting, I joined a hue: “Why aren’t men being injected?” The problem, whatever it was, affected everyone. It didn’t make sense for half of the population to get it and not the other half.

The powers agreed and decreed everyone should receive the shots. I was given my flasks of powder and told my injection schedule.

That’s when I awoke. Sitting up, I peered about for my flasks and tried remembering my schedule. When was I supposed to give myself the next injection? In three hours? What time would that be?

As I realized all that was a dream, I calmed and thought of the dream, then went back to sleep. And — boom — shortly thereafter, I was awake and thinking, what was I supposed to do? Where are my injections?