dismemberment.

Last night I dreamt I accidentally tore off a fellow painter's arm. It left a bloody sinuous socket.
I ran off to find somebody who could schedule him a surgery to sew it back on.

It took me forever. I was in a huge office building, stopping at many cubicles, speaking with many bored and perturbed office ladies, all of them saying no or being otherwise engaged and unwilling to speak with me.
I was frantic.
I found someone to speak to. As I pleaded her to pencil my friend in for an "emergency medical surgery" she was preoccupied with a pile of papers at her desk. She was scratching notes and numbers while I begged her. A man came into my peripheral who was clearly in agony. He was old and fragile and had a skin disease. The woman, upon seeing him, said that sorry, she couldn't help me because this man was worse off and needed the surgery more.

So I went back to meet Austin in a small dimly lit room with a television and lazy boy. He was seated slumped in the chair with the tv blaring something nonsensical. It was a depressing scene. It felt he had been there for weeks, a sloth in front of the tv.
I sat down beside him to deliver the bad news.
He had bandaged his arm back onto his shoulder and I asked whether it was attached at all under the gauze. He said no.
He seemed to have surrendered to his sad situation.

I'm pretty sure I ended up finding him a surgery, but it wasn't any time soon.

I saw him today and told him this dream.
He just sort of smiled throughout, so once I finished explaining it I quickly ducked away.