![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Anxious? Moi?
Feb. 11th, 2006 06:31 amIl ne me le faut pas.
No, that's not the middle of the French alphabet. That's a little phrase which bascially means "I don't need this".
I woke up at 5:20 am today, Saturday. It wasn't the kids. It wasn't the cat. It was my dream reaching untenability.
I dreamt that I was going into an office as a contractor for a couple of weeks before I start my new job, except that they didn't know I was leaving. Everyone was wearing white shirts and ties, because everyone was male. The building bore an uncanny resemblance to the office warehouse I first worked in back in 1982. But the coworkers were mostly from my job with the crazy Russians back in 1996.
I was supposed to analyze their product and make sense of it. But first I had to go to some meetings. More meetings, in different rooms, but all with the same attendees. Then I noticed that the next meeting conflicted with my orientation with my new job, so I snuck out.
The orientation hadn't started when I arrived, so I was sent to the cafeteria to get myself breakfast and coffee. This place was huge, set down an entire flight of stairs from the floor, had many concentric rings of food lines, and none of them had coffee mugs. There was spilled coffee and milk and scattered sugar all around one station, but a nice lady with a tray of mugs still steaming from the dishwasher was approaching. Meanwhile, the danish on my tray (did I even take a danish?) was starting to melt down.
Chatter around the tables was that the orientation was postponed. I hustled to a cramped office with a desk that was supposed to be mine, with shiny formica on the top, and woke up. And I've been awake ever since.
No, that's not the middle of the French alphabet. That's a little phrase which bascially means "I don't need this".
I woke up at 5:20 am today, Saturday. It wasn't the kids. It wasn't the cat. It was my dream reaching untenability.
I dreamt that I was going into an office as a contractor for a couple of weeks before I start my new job, except that they didn't know I was leaving. Everyone was wearing white shirts and ties, because everyone was male. The building bore an uncanny resemblance to the office warehouse I first worked in back in 1982. But the coworkers were mostly from my job with the crazy Russians back in 1996.
I was supposed to analyze their product and make sense of it. But first I had to go to some meetings. More meetings, in different rooms, but all with the same attendees. Then I noticed that the next meeting conflicted with my orientation with my new job, so I snuck out.
The orientation hadn't started when I arrived, so I was sent to the cafeteria to get myself breakfast and coffee. This place was huge, set down an entire flight of stairs from the floor, had many concentric rings of food lines, and none of them had coffee mugs. There was spilled coffee and milk and scattered sugar all around one station, but a nice lady with a tray of mugs still steaming from the dishwasher was approaching. Meanwhile, the danish on my tray (did I even take a danish?) was starting to melt down.
Chatter around the tables was that the orientation was postponed. I hustled to a cramped office with a desk that was supposed to be mine, with shiny formica on the top, and woke up. And I've been awake ever since.
