Ew, oh

My first dream finds me at the ob/gyn. My doctor is a young guy; he's handsome but he ain't Dr. George Clooney. He begins his work by "massaging" my labia. In mere seconds I am excited and he thrusts me off of the examination table and we go at it passionately.
In the next scene I am wandering around a long dark country lane. I have no shoes on, so I am sliding around on a piece of cardboard to keep from getting muddy or cut on broken glass. I know no one and no one seems interested in helping me return home. An older man has his car idling by the entrance and I ask him where he is headed. He tells me toward "route 312". I think to myself that must be near my home because routes 212 & 412 are near it. I ask him if his travels take him in the direction of the town I live in, and tells me emphatically, no! I don't believe him and sulk and continue down the dark country lane.
I walk for hours.
Finally I make my way into town and enter the apartment building where I am living. The hallway is long and is broken up by short chunks of steps. I essentially have to walk through my neighbors apartment to get to my own, at least when going this way. Everything is white - bright white. As I walk up I notice the Kardashian family (I am ashamed to admit I know who they are, thanks Chelsea Handler) is seated on a big cushy white sofa watching television. My mom is with them and seems to fit in perfectly. I say hi and continue to my apartment.
When I get inside my apartment is quite opposite the halls - everything is low lit and warm; one of my lamps have burned out, I continue through the apartment and when I get to the front find that while the larger wood door is securely shut, the wrought iron "screen door" is blowing open in the breeze. It is dark outside and I try to turn on the porch light - it takes a few flips of the switch to get it on. I am worried that someone is lurking nearby. I retrace my steps and find a window open in a side room. I immediately bolt out of the back door, back into the bright white hallway and find the Kardashians. I see that they have no intention of rising from their seat, or stirring from the television, but I try anyway. I ask them sweetly if they will return to my apartment to look through it with me and ensure that no one is hiding there. I make lavish promises, but they seem interested not at all.