It seems inevitable that when I take a sick day from work I will be obliged to have a dream about the workplace.
It was a classic case of reality invading fiction. In my dream, I had taken the day off but needed to make a quick stop into the office for reasons that weren’t made clear. I even made sure to dress in sweatpants and to not bring my laptop with me so that I couldn’t get sucked into working. Instead, I got drawn into a conversation about updating a legacy application suite on a new hardware platform. My view was that it wasn’t nearly as easy as many believed, but the quietest voice is rarely the most persuasive.
Ultimately that doomed discussion took longer than expected, and my cold-ridden brain wasn’t thinking clearly. In my dream, the office morphed into a large department store at the end of a shopping mall crowded with people. I had to make several stops to pick up my jacket and laptop, which had been relocated to a table in a bookstore. By the time I had avoided shops and kiosks and was finally ready to step out into the parking lot, another half hour had gone by.
My car was not in the covered garage that exists in my real workplace, but rather in a muddy field in which cars had parked in narrow rows and in seemingly random patterns. By the time I had located my car, I had walked a considerable distance, and I was leaving smack in the middle of rush hour, meaning that many cars were trying to leave at once.
The rows were so narrow that I had a difficult time getting out of my parking space. And when I did, the row was only wide enough for one car. Invariably, an exiting car was pointed my way. Not having sufficient room to turn around, I had to drive in reverse and try to find the end of the row, but before I did, another car had pulled up behind me.
flush with fever
of a recurring nightmare