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In the Virtual Bank Line


So, I'm at work, working hard on this manual that I've got to get done. At the same time, there are two bumbling idiots running around in a place that looks like Golden Gate park, trying to avoid a large gang of terrorists that are trying to kill them.

I can see these two idiots because I'm sort of flying above them, every once in a while stopping and clinging to a tree and checking out the amazing colonies of insects that live high up in trees.

And then I'm back at work, and while I was gone, they have removed all the cubicles and re-arranged the space. Everyone now has small desks arranged in a U shape around the room. The rest of the company is at a meeting, but there are about five people sitting at desks talking together. The nameplates that used to adorn the outside of our cubes are now on the top of the desks so that we can find our place, and I'm looking around for my desk because I had been in the middle of an important project. I ask the few people in the room if they know which one is my desk, and they ignore me. I walk around the U, looking for my nameplate. I finally come upon it attached to a desk with a person sitting at it. I am deeply annoyed.

In another room, there is a guy who looks like the guy from Office Space (who in turn closely resembles my best friend). He has a scam in mind wherein he's going to tell the women in accounts payable that he needs these checks made out to a bunch of vendors. He's got the pile of blank checks in his hand. He walks into accounts payable, which consists of three desks at weird angles to each other, so that the women behind them are no more than 4 feet from one another.

He addresses the middle one, asking if she can do a rush job making out these checks to the vendors. She looks at him, picks up her phone and dials. The phone of the woman to her right rings, and that woman picks it up. Neither of the women look at each other or at the guy, and the women are talking in stage whispers as though he can't hear them perfectly well.

"I think we should get this guy to come and work for us," the first woman says.
"That's fine. He can have Marcy's old desk," the other woman says.
"Okay. I'll get him started right away," the first woman says, and hangs up the phone. Then she looks at the other woman and mouths the words "Thank you."

She directs the guy to another desk directly behind the group, and tells him that there is an account ledger and to just get started. He sits down, baffled about what just happened.

I go back to my desk, and I'm fishing through the very large bottom drawer, which is full of junk. Saddam Hussein is sitting to my left wearing a maroon beret. We are arguing about who currently has control of Libya. He maintains that the beret he's wearing proves that he controls Libya, but I insist that there is a set of filing cabinet keys in my drawer that proves that I have control of Libya. I'm annoyed because he won't stop taunting me as I'm fishing through this large drawer for these very small keys.

I look up and he's grinning like an idiot at me from behind his desk. "You can't find them, can you?" he says in an irritating, cheerful tone. "That's because I control Libya and Ghaddafi." I give him a nasty look and keep searching for those keys.


And in the dream, for some reason, none of this was even remotely funny.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
alleahna
Feb. 27th, 2004 02:14 pm (UTC)
Sureal. Very sureal.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )