Well, I'll be a Dutchman

Woke up later on in another part of the hospital. Well, at least a projection of me did. Which opens up all sorts of curious avenues, I suppose. If I can project myself into the nurses' quarters (I know, I know) then where else might I shoot off to while what they're still referring to as my brain snoozes or otherwise passes a dozy hour?

And were they the real nurses' quarters? I mean to say- Might they have been a mere projection of the nurses' quarters? A summoning, if you like, from the silted floor of the sludgy grey trough labelled 'take a gander at this, chaps', half-remembered from something overheard when I was alive?

Or am I alive now?

Do dead men think about nurses buttoning their fronts?