The Dance of the Living Dead

I was in Boston for a business trip. As I sat in my hotel room I began to experience pain in my chest. I had been under a lot of stress, so I decided to get the pain checked out.
I had noticed, from the window of the taxi, a multistory hospital. The name was Saint somebody or other, I forget. I got up and went outside. I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the directions to the hospital, as well as I remembered them.
When we arrived at the hospital, I went up to the desk in the waiting room and mentioned that I had chest pains. The lady called a doctor who invited me inside and listened to my heart with his stethoscope. I could tell he was concerned. He immediately got a bed assigned to me. It was on the fifth floor.
A nurse’s assistant, a young man, told me to take off my clothes and put on a hospital gown. He then told me to lay down on the bed, and that I would be taken downstairs to the X-ray department. It felt good lying down, since I usually am in a rush going somewhere and loaded with responsibilities.
Soon two men came into my room and took hold of the bed. They pushed the bed out into the hall.
We were moving along rather swiftly. We made several turns. The hallways were well lighted. I felt comfortable as we went along. There were pictures on the walls. One time we passed a window and I could see the traffic and people going about their business.