Uncomfortable clothes
[No actual coworkers were harmed or upset in the making
of this dream. This is only partially about work, after all.]
I dreamed this morning that "they" killed one of my coworkers.
Officially he "fell", but several of us figured he was pushed
because we saw him wrestled away from the balcony before he
could speak. "They" instantly replaced him with someone new
who cheerfully spouted what "they" wanted to hear rather than
doing difficult work to fix or change things.
One coworker, who had been close friends with the victim,
fell completely apart, sobbing in my arms. I was trying to
help and hide her in case they might go after her too.
Then things shifted slightly... and I was parking further away
from work, in a rather hidden spot in an underground garage.
I noticed I was wearing a specific T-shirt [a meaningful but
uncomfortably constructed one that I haven't worn in years -
however, I saw it a week ago when I pulled out its sister shirt
for my first solo takeoff and landing] and so on my way in
I started looking around for a more suitable shirt, but no one
had noticed I wasn't dressed right.
At least before I woke up.
Would the death of hope hurt less if it hadn't been given a voice?
At least my first impulse seems to have been to worry about someone else
in more trouble, rather than myself.
Would you have still said what you did if you knew what I was thinking?
One of the leftovers from my childhood is that I don't like surprises.
Do I change my shirt, or do I walk away?
Ah, sometimes Tir'na Na Nog'th disappears right under your feet.
Originally posted on Dreamwidth as http://netpositive.dreamwidth.org/74307.html . Do comment either hither or yon, as you see fit.
of this dream. This is only partially about work, after all.]
I dreamed this morning that "they" killed one of my coworkers.
Officially he "fell", but several of us figured he was pushed
because we saw him wrestled away from the balcony before he
could speak. "They" instantly replaced him with someone new
who cheerfully spouted what "they" wanted to hear rather than
doing difficult work to fix or change things.
One coworker, who had been close friends with the victim,
fell completely apart, sobbing in my arms. I was trying to
help and hide her in case they might go after her too.
Then things shifted slightly... and I was parking further away
from work, in a rather hidden spot in an underground garage.
I noticed I was wearing a specific T-shirt [a meaningful but
uncomfortably constructed one that I haven't worn in years -
however, I saw it a week ago when I pulled out its sister shirt
for my first solo takeoff and landing] and so on my way in
I started looking around for a more suitable shirt, but no one
had noticed I wasn't dressed right.
At least before I woke up.
Would the death of hope hurt less if it hadn't been given a voice?
At least my first impulse seems to have been to worry about someone else
in more trouble, rather than myself.
Would you have still said what you did if you knew what I was thinking?
One of the leftovers from my childhood is that I don't like surprises.
Do I change my shirt, or do I walk away?
Ah, sometimes Tir'na Na Nog'th disappears right under your feet.
Originally posted on Dreamwidth as http://netpositive.dreamwidth.org/74307.html . Do comment either hither or yon, as you see fit.