The injury sent me scrambling to assist. It seemed to me like he would need stitches as the finger was bleeding fairly steadily. So I put on my shoes and consulted with my parents on where to take him for assistance. The consensus was that the clinic in town (the small town of Blackduck, MN) wouldn't be competent enough to handle this emergency and so I should drive sraun to the hospital in Bemidji, 20-some miles away. He didn't think things were that bad, however, and so declined.
We eventually ended up in front of a pair of tall, floor-standing metal cabinets. Very much like the kind that hold office supplies here at work. With sraun dripping blood on the floor, I dug into one of the cabinets in search of first-aid supplies only to discover that it was filled with pasta. Boxes and boxes of fettuccine, spaghetti, rotini and other shapes. I remarked to myself in the dream that I would have to remember to tell erickavan that we didn't need to purchase any more pasta for a while.
There were other faces of friends scattered through the dream, but the main plot seemed to involve this finger/pasta episode.