Friday, February 13, 2009


business hotties:
i am a large corporate office meeting room, big oval table, and lots of chairs, big windows allowing great views of the city. i am alone; i am trying to find a piece of paper that has some important information on it that i need to share with a colleague (who appears to be tim who i used to work with and was in a previous dream). there is no panic just the beginning sense of urgency.
i find the right papers as tim walks in.
i slide it across the table to him. it scoots perfectly to a stop in front of him. i notice the knots in the design of the table.
tim looks at sheet. we both snigger.
the important information is a combination of spreadsheet and glossary that describes the hotness of our colleagues.

large school gym/ assembly hall. parquet flooring that has darkened with age and coats of polish. the layout of the space changes throughout the dream, sometimes the stage is there, sometimes it is not. it seems as if a large group of people have been kidnapped. or at the very least have been made to attend, it is hard to tell. one thing is certain: no one seems to want to be there.
the group has been split by sex. the girls face the boys. there are all shapes and sizes in the group. they are all wearing flesh toned lycra jumpsuits.
there is someone standing over them all, their identity never revealed.
the two groups are being shouted at and they are being forced to do a large-scale dance routine. everyone looks embarrassed to be there.

i am in café that is a mix of 50s american diner, northern café and pie & mash shop. i am standing in between two corner booths, wooden wall dividers and mirrors around. the floor is black and white tiles, there is a lot of formica, on the tables there are tomato shaped sauce dispensers.
there are a crowd of people sitting in the booths. i am holding court. we all look like rejects from ‘happy days’. i am in a leather jacket and white t-shirt. i have no idea what i am talking about, but i am in full flow.
at the end of one booth is sitting a woman, she looks up at me and says something, what is said is not clear. she is marisa tomei.
my reply is short and curt: “nice baps”.

i am riding on a bus (or tram); the street outside seems strangely empty and very wide. i seem to be fresh faced and bushy tailed. in my hand i am clutching a large book, dark blue cover with bold yellow writing. it is my new work manual.
i am off to my first day on the job and i am excited to be working at macdonalds.

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