I always used to envy the abilities of HP Lovecraft and Rick Veitch to have highly imaginative dreams. Mine have always seemed like unimaginative regurgitations of real experiences, and I could imagine far better awake than asleep. But last night's was a doozy.
So in 2010 I retired consensually from a job as a library assistant. One "myth" that has recurred in my dreams has been the attempt to make my retirement into some big drama, rather than just me packing up my stuff, leaving a clean desk and bidding farewell to my co-workers. The one example of a PREVIOUS dream had me visit the old office and there was no one there, while the cubicles were all covered with cobwebs. Occasionally the back to work dreams have involved real people I worked with, but it's not like repeating a full list of employees. In the real world the whole office moved from its rental location years ago and opened a new office elsewhere, so the last place I worked isn't even a library any more.
So in the new dream, the whole office is closing down and everyone's leaving. No one's unhappy about this, so it's not like being laid off; more like everyone and me is retiring at the same time. I don't recognize any of the people I've supposedly worked with but had the impression that one of my co-workers was Tyrus, the ex-wrestler from the Greg Gutfeld show. I never meet him, though.
It's the end of the last day. Maybe we worked all day, maybe not. But in the last hour of work, we're told to go running around throwing items-- books, papers, small objects-- into big plastic bags that someone will sort out later. A weird old lady supplies the bags, don't remember if she was supposed to be someone or not.
Personal conflict arises when I realize I haven't finished a tabulation of my last month's statistics to turn in to the office. Instead of going crazy like everyone else and just flinging stuff into bags, I work my way back to my own desk before anyone else gets there. I have some idea of doing up my stats the way I want. However, while I'm filching around for the relevant papers, a co-worker shows up in front of my desk and tells me to forget it. This role, the only other definite co-worker besides Tyrus, is essayed by a look alike for a friend of mine named Michael, who moved from my city over twenty years ago and whom I've not been in contact with since then. Perhaps needless to add, he never worked for my library or any library.
I get angry at Michael and slam my hands down on the desk. Then I realize he's right; I'll just make some crap up for my last stats. So then I do start running around with plastic bags, dumping stuff in willy nilly.
Almost immediately I run out of bags. I find out somehow that I'm supposed to get new ones out a big plastic trash barrel. As I near the barrel I see inside a big container like your standard trash bag container, from which you rip one serrated bag from another. I have the impression the weird old lady is in the trash barrel, pushing up the bag container. But somehow I don't choose the bag that's at the top of the container, but the one at the very bottom. As I run with my new bag someone declares that the bag chosen from the bottom is the ORIGINAL bag. What will happen if I try to put things in it? Will it swallow the universe?
Tyrus is no help; he starts singing a song that sounds like,
"Han-u-man,
"Han-u-man,
"Han-u-man,
"Herrero."
Though, because I'm partly coming out of the dream, I semi-consciously think he's singing something about the Finnish hero Vainamoinen, so the "Hanuman" interpretation might be after the fact.
Does the universe get bagged to death? Search me. that's when I woke up.
Maybe tonight I'll get to Part 2, but I doubt it.
So in 2010 I retired consensually from a job as a library assistant. One "myth" that has recurred in my dreams has been the attempt to make my retirement into some big drama, rather than just me packing up my stuff, leaving a clean desk and bidding farewell to my co-workers. The one example of a PREVIOUS dream had me visit the old office and there was no one there, while the cubicles were all covered with cobwebs. Occasionally the back to work dreams have involved real people I worked with, but it's not like repeating a full list of employees. In the real world the whole office moved from its rental location years ago and opened a new office elsewhere, so the last place I worked isn't even a library any more.
So in the new dream, the whole office is closing down and everyone's leaving. No one's unhappy about this, so it's not like being laid off; more like everyone and me is retiring at the same time. I don't recognize any of the people I've supposedly worked with but had the impression that one of my co-workers was Tyrus, the ex-wrestler from the Greg Gutfeld show. I never meet him, though.
It's the end of the last day. Maybe we worked all day, maybe not. But in the last hour of work, we're told to go running around throwing items-- books, papers, small objects-- into big plastic bags that someone will sort out later. A weird old lady supplies the bags, don't remember if she was supposed to be someone or not.
Personal conflict arises when I realize I haven't finished a tabulation of my last month's statistics to turn in to the office. Instead of going crazy like everyone else and just flinging stuff into bags, I work my way back to my own desk before anyone else gets there. I have some idea of doing up my stats the way I want. However, while I'm filching around for the relevant papers, a co-worker shows up in front of my desk and tells me to forget it. This role, the only other definite co-worker besides Tyrus, is essayed by a look alike for a friend of mine named Michael, who moved from my city over twenty years ago and whom I've not been in contact with since then. Perhaps needless to add, he never worked for my library or any library.
I get angry at Michael and slam my hands down on the desk. Then I realize he's right; I'll just make some crap up for my last stats. So then I do start running around with plastic bags, dumping stuff in willy nilly.
Almost immediately I run out of bags. I find out somehow that I'm supposed to get new ones out a big plastic trash barrel. As I near the barrel I see inside a big container like your standard trash bag container, from which you rip one serrated bag from another. I have the impression the weird old lady is in the trash barrel, pushing up the bag container. But somehow I don't choose the bag that's at the top of the container, but the one at the very bottom. As I run with my new bag someone declares that the bag chosen from the bottom is the ORIGINAL bag. What will happen if I try to put things in it? Will it swallow the universe?
Tyrus is no help; he starts singing a song that sounds like,
"Han-u-man,
"Han-u-man,
"Han-u-man,
"Herrero."
Though, because I'm partly coming out of the dream, I semi-consciously think he's singing something about the Finnish hero Vainamoinen, so the "Hanuman" interpretation might be after the fact.
Does the universe get bagged to death? Search me. that's when I woke up.
Maybe tonight I'll get to Part 2, but I doubt it.
statistics: Posted by gene phillips — 11:56 AM - 1 day ago — Replies 2 — Views 260