Dream: Somnian school bureaucracy
This morning I dreamed I was living in Kirk, in the room I had during my senior year. (I wasn't a senior, though; it was now.) I was talking to a female RA in the common room, helping her finish some math homework. Then she was working on a complicated form (part of the Mac bureaucracy) she had to submit by 9 PM in order to authorize a major festival happening the same night.
She finished the paperwork and we walked down to the parking lot. I was going to give her a ride over to Campus Programs, but she said it had to go to Steve (the personnel manager at work) in Dupre. I told her he'd be pretty busy, since we're delivering three counties this week, and he might not have time to deal with it. She produced another, much shorter form, and filled it out while I looked for my car. (It's dark green, and there weren't any lights in the lot, so it looked like all the other dark colored cars.) The second form authorized someone other than Steve to review the festival paperwork, but Steve still had to sign the second form.
We got in my car and were both immediately surprised at how low we were; the hood was barely more than two feet off the ground. I also thought it odd that someone had repainted my car white without telling me. I'd have been livid at the vandalism, but it was a very professional job; I couldn't imagine them doing it without a spray hood and the whole works. Still, I don't like white cars. Not only that, but now my key wasn't working in the ignition; the paint must've gotten inside and gummed it up. Probably happened because they forgot to put the top up before they sprayed.... Hmmm. My car had also become a convertible, and the top was down.
Maybe this wasn't my car.
We got out and found my car in the next row. I drove us to Dupre, which was on the south side of a street. We had to unlock a fence to get in, then walked up to the second floor. Steve's room was made small and cramped by the number of rack-mounted computers and floor-to-ceiling stacks of hard drives. The only light was from a dim monitor and the blue indicator LEDs on the rack mounts. The LEDs below the desks were brighter somehow, and cast long shadows at the ceiling, making Steve look even taller than he is. He was to busy to talk, but he signed the short form without a second glance. We left for the festival.
****
I awoke to MPR: "...are still severe thunderst...." I slapped the radio-alarm off, hoping to sleep. Before I could close my eyes, I heard a pair of loud, metallic clinks from outside the window. There was a peal of thunder. With a rush, the room filled with the sounds of hail bouncing on the roof overhead and clank-clattering on the neighbor's air conditioner, right across the alley from our window.
She finished the paperwork and we walked down to the parking lot. I was going to give her a ride over to Campus Programs, but she said it had to go to Steve (the personnel manager at work) in Dupre. I told her he'd be pretty busy, since we're delivering three counties this week, and he might not have time to deal with it. She produced another, much shorter form, and filled it out while I looked for my car. (It's dark green, and there weren't any lights in the lot, so it looked like all the other dark colored cars.) The second form authorized someone other than Steve to review the festival paperwork, but Steve still had to sign the second form.
We got in my car and were both immediately surprised at how low we were; the hood was barely more than two feet off the ground. I also thought it odd that someone had repainted my car white without telling me. I'd have been livid at the vandalism, but it was a very professional job; I couldn't imagine them doing it without a spray hood and the whole works. Still, I don't like white cars. Not only that, but now my key wasn't working in the ignition; the paint must've gotten inside and gummed it up. Probably happened because they forgot to put the top up before they sprayed.... Hmmm. My car had also become a convertible, and the top was down.
Maybe this wasn't my car.
We got out and found my car in the next row. I drove us to Dupre, which was on the south side of a street. We had to unlock a fence to get in, then walked up to the second floor. Steve's room was made small and cramped by the number of rack-mounted computers and floor-to-ceiling stacks of hard drives. The only light was from a dim monitor and the blue indicator LEDs on the rack mounts. The LEDs below the desks were brighter somehow, and cast long shadows at the ceiling, making Steve look even taller than he is. He was to busy to talk, but he signed the short form without a second glance. We left for the festival.
****
I awoke to MPR: "...are still severe thunderst...." I slapped the radio-alarm off, hoping to sleep. Before I could close my eyes, I heard a pair of loud, metallic clinks from outside the window. There was a peal of thunder. With a rush, the room filled with the sounds of hail bouncing on the roof overhead and clank-clattering on the neighbor's air conditioner, right across the alley from our window.