Last night I dreamed I had pockets full of patient files

I'm walking through the hospital at night, but it's also a train station, and every pocket of my coat is full of patient files that keep turning into pressed flowers when I try to read them. A dog follows me — a golden retriever — and every time I stop to check a chart, she nudges my hand like, keep moving, the important thing is ahead. I never find out what's ahead. I just keep walking through the humidity of the underground, carrying flowers.