Soufflé dream

I had another dream tonight 
Bring the eardrums closer for my voice is faint despite
The ruthlessness and cunning contained in sleepy P waves
If I had less blubber I’d put it on

My doctor came to me dressed as a woman
And tried to dance to a looney tune
But before I bade him goodbye expeditiously
I noticed, on the floor, a pair of cut-off jeans with cut-off hands

They were clasping what seemed to be a batch of thistle
And on closer examination were clean as a whistle
I told the doctor “Do something before I call the cops”
But he went back to his dance only this time it was rock

We bickered and balled each other in the office out
The cut-off hand clung to the cut off jeans 
Seemingly pleading to us: “Don’t you have any nerve!”

And then a waiter appeared with a soufflé ready to serve.