We lead a very medical lifestyle in our household. My partner’s existent condition is such that drugs—not “fun” drugs, mind you, but maintenance drugs that are are integral to the functioning of her body—are very important in our daily lives. As such, we find ourselves at the pharmacy frequently.
In this dream, comedian Amy Schumer, who we were presumably living with, had for some reason decided to transfer her prescriptions to our insurance. I don’t know why she opted for this, but I had the feeling that this was for convenience, as this meant whenever we went to Duane Reade to get our prescriptions, we would to pick hers up, as well.
One day, we returned from the pharmacy to find Amy fuming. She could not find her PCP, and demanded that we tell her where we put it, as it wasn’t in its usual place.
It wasn’t apparent why she had a prescription for PCP, nor do I know why anybody would be prescribed PCP, much less a popular comedian.