2011-05-18 – Farey’s Office

Overall Impression:
Extremely detailed workplace dream that included bleed-thru of some waking real world elements.

Recurring Themes:
Workplace 2 (low-rise office), Urban Neighborhood, My Van (the current van in this dream), a Bicycle

Sort of a West Seattle/Downtown Seattle hybrid, with elements of Hayward–Union City California along the Mission Blvd. corridor with a kind of Maitland/Penrith NSW tenement district feeling, late evening.

A young blonde boss and her latina socialite assistant, a coworker, and the hostile dude.

Important Props:
My van and my C-PAP machine.

Surrealistic Elements:
My van changed into a bicycle while I was driving.

The Dream:
One of my more common workplace themes, I was being very kindly catered to, almost with a feeling of mercy or charity, having a small desk toward the back of the office floor.

It was getting off work time, not that anyone was watching the clock, and I tried to report back to my boss, a pretty blonde lady. I couldn’t remember her name, and almost slipped-up and called her Farey, the name of one of my first office supervisors when I was in my early 20s.

Unfortunately, I had difficulty talking, similar to the difficulty I have when I am lying in bed with my C–PAP machine on. In the dream, I looked back toward my desk, and saw my C–PAP machine there. I endeavoured to take the mask off.

Next, we were inside the elevator going down, and I again tried to talk to my boss and co-workers, with the same difficulty, and realizing again that my mask was still on. I again attempted to remove my mask, but by this time, everyone had deserted to their next points of interest, which apparently was away from me. It seemed they were all content to be patient to try to listen to me, and were gracious as I thanked them for helping me to have what had been a fine day, but it was somewhat a task for them when I engaged them in conversation.

The office building, as I exited it, was either in, or just on the outskirts of, an urban neighborhood. The houses were older, late 1940s homes, gabled roofs with front verandahs. You see a lot of these kinds of homes in parts of West and North Seattle, and I saw a lot of them in different parts of NSW. No fences. Front yards of greenish-tan grass were separated by driveways. A concrete sidewalk and grassy easement ran along the front of the houses next to the on-the-curb parking where my van was.

There was a sizeable crowd of pedestrians—workers leaving the building and dispersing into the various streets and alleyways. Very few of them were getting into cars, all of them seeming to live close by, which met with the fine, warm late-summer evening.

I got in my van and pulled away from the curb, intent on seeing if anyone from my office were off to remote destinations and would prefer to carpool with me instead of taking public transportation. As it would turn out, all of them, it seemed, were locals, most having turned down what was either a broad ally or a narrow street, lined on one side by apartments and on the other with back yards.

I was now on a bicycle. There were a lot of cute business girls socializing with their neighbors in the alley, tiki torches burning, and several people had barbeques going, as if it were one big after-work office party.

I got distracted by one young size-1 mini dress and my other cheek got smacked by the elbow of a guy who had been stretching with his hands behind his neck. I said, “Sorry,” as it had been essentially my fault for not watching where I was going.

I was surprised, then, when this guy started running after me, intent on messing me up for my assault. I stopped my bike, and let him catch up (he was only a few paces back). And I was frank with him, saying, “My bad, I was ogling the skirt back there and hadn’t realized I was so close. Forgive?”

But as I was saying it, I realized I was still having a hard time talking, because my C–PAP machine was still on my face.

I woke up realizing that it was already daylight, and that I was late for my friend, Dawn, arriving. Just then the phone rang, and it was Dawn. I answered the phone, only to realize that my C–PAP machine was still on my face. (Dawn, by the way, lives in West Seattle.)

Final Impressions:
So, admiring a girl in a dress caused offense, again. Eh?

One of the things that stand out in stark detail in this dream was the guy I’d colided with. About 5’11” to 6,’ thin nose with a square tip, blond, wavy hair cut short, light maybe blue eyes behind rectangular glasses, fair complexion if a little shiny with the warm evening.

And of course, apologizing helped. But would it have been better if I hadn’t been distracted by the girl in the first place?

The evening before I had apparently really offended my daughters by having noticed a cute backside at Fry’s Electronics. I hadn’t actually noticed the girl, but it was one of those truly worthy butts. I am now strictly informed that I shouldn’t be noticing some things, which of course means that I am now going to either cease to be human, or at least less of a man, or photographer, or at the very least be less honest about it. Somehow, that feels like a loss to me.


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