In my dream life, I seem to be experiencing a series of very odd dreams. Inevitably, there is some sort of crime involved. I have to wonder about a mind that creates these weird, complicated scenarios. Here’s a good example:
I’m working with my coworkers. We are back in the work environment but it looks nothing like how it was. In addition to well spaced work stations, there are flexible spaces including bathrooms with homey touches like curtains, shampoo, and tooth brushes. We have bedrooms where we can chose to work on beds or chairs.
One of my coworkers is a talking dog. I’m sorry I didn’t catch his name. He’s big and brown. He looks like my dog, Sheba, but without her brindle coloring. I’ll call him Sam.
Sam has a problem at work. He has a non-permanent appointment and applied for a permanent job. It’s been a year that he’s been trying to get on permanent. (Clearly, we work for state government.) A woman, with the same experience as he, was hired permanently a year ago. We all know this is unfair and Sam is being discriminated against. However, it doesn’t occur to any of us that the discrimination is based on the fact he is a dog. We just know management has it out for Sam.
Sam lives close by work with his extended family who are all human beings. Our work building is situated by a lake. One day, I look out the frilly curtained work window and see Sam’s DeLorean floating on the lake. A young woman is swimming around the DeLorean treating it as a floating dock. I’m surprised the DeLorean is floating. As I watch, I see Sam’s precious car sink to the bottom of the lake. I think, “Poor, Sam.”
Shortly after, Sam comes in the room. I hate to add to his troubles but say, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Sam, but your DeLorean sank in the lake.”
“WHAT?!” He explodes. I explain what I saw. Sam goes to the wall phone and calls his house. His niece was driving the DeLorean. I hear him say, “What made you think it would float?” Apparently, she thought it would because it was floating for a few minutes. Sam has to make arrangements for the authorities and a tow truck (tow boat?) to fish out the DeLorean. Sam and I discuss how many steps it’s going to take to get the car running again—possibly too many.
The dream moves into other political complications. It’s the beginning of spring break. People in the east are being told to stay home and NOT travel to the coast because there is fear of rioting. The public is unhappy. Because people have been targeting the state, my coworkers and I are happy mass numbers are not on the move.
I keep watching how Sam is handling things. He comes to me. He’s made a decision. “I wanted to let you know. I’m not going to fight it anymore. If they don’t want to make me permanent here, I’m just going to leave.”
I’m sad to hear this. I understand Sam’s frustration. I’m sorry for Sam and for me. As this plays out, eventually I won’t get to work with Sam any more. Sam’s a great personality to be around. I wish there was more I could do...
It’s hard to say what generates this elaborate dream life. But since it happened and I probably won’t see Sam again, I’m writing it here as a tribute to Sam and also a warning. DELOREANS DO NOT FLOAT!
Joceile
4.4.21
[Picture of Sam’s big, brown dog likeness.]
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