Wrong Work

The dream we all have. We spent approximately 8 hours and 5 days a week working that is around 1,795 hours a year without vacation and your workplace is bound to be a part of your subconscious when you go to sleep.

The reoccurring dream that keeps appearing reminds of the poem by Alex Gomez:

Chained to a desk

As midnight hour dawns

Yearning for rest

Usefulness of a pawn

With pen in hand

I scribble anything

Though thought seems banned

Ideas do not sing

A Writer’s Block

Laden with apathy

Struggle to unlock

Inspiration before catastrophe

That's how the dream starts out, I see myself coming into the office and sitting down at my office chair, then with a click and a sudden strike, chains are wrapped around my wrists strapping me to the armrests, and a loud clunk ties my ankles to the base of the chair. I am unable to move, I can only reach my keyboard and office phone. I have no choice, but then accept the fact that I am chained to my desk. I look at my emails and there is only one in my inbox, this is very strange as usually I open my email to have nearly 25 or 30 waiting for me to reply. Today, was a different day. There’s was only one email. I click on it and it reads: good morning, unfortunately due to last minute circumstances you will be the only one on your team today. Thank you. Sincerely manager who is out of office until 2026. Panic immediately fills me. I cannot panic though and next thing I know I am running around the office completing forms, taking all phone calls, speaking with people at the front desk, I am running but my pace is extremely slow like the whole floor had turned to glue and somehow I cannot move fast. All the lawyers move past me and throw files at me, I bend down to pick them up as I do so another filed falls onto my head. I continue picking up files which are all jumbled and it’s a mess. I get up and I keep running while orders are being barked at me by the CEO how did it come to this. I am stressed out, screaming and crying, no one hears me. It’s all too much, too many files, too much paperwork, nothing is organized. I try shredding old documents, but the container cannot hold anything else, and the plastic bin starts to noticeably crack and then papers are flying left and right, like Harry Potter trying to grab his letter to Hogwarts, I’m trying to nab them and them in one place. My manager comes in and with red rage of furry screams “you are fired!” As spit comes from his mouth and sweat leaks down his forehead.

Then, I wake up.

"And you don't think your stressed is linked to your job?" Dr. Braverman asked me.

"Well, no I love my job," I replied.

"It appears that maybe you are stressed about things going wrong in job, is that a possibility?" she asked me peering from her rectangular spectacles.

I sat in silence, it could be possible, I was just an intern anyway, but why would I have this reoccurring nightmare, it made sense. I can't quit now; they will all know me as "the girl that could not last a month in a lawyer's office".

"Are you afraid of disappointing anyone?" she asked me.

I sat in silence still, who would I be disappointing? my parents? I did drop out of art school, and it made sense...but would I be so afraid of disappointing them that I would have nightmares about work?

"I think it could be my parents," I finally replied. "I already dropped out of art school and now, I am afraid of failing them again..." I said slowly as I let the reality settle in.

"Okay, sorry our time is up, and we can discuss that in our next session," she said, and she shut her notebook.