I have two types of work nightmare, and one always ends up involving a toilet.
The first comes from the time I spent working for a major, international religious organization. When I left there the first time (after my ex-fiancee and his wife came to work there), I was told that I was in sin, that I was running out of God’s will for my life, and I was running straight into certain destruction. After the ex was fired for sexual harassment, I returned to the organization. When I left the last time it was because I had seen corruption, abuse, and some of the most unchristian behavior I had ever witnessed. They were not as sorry to see me go that time.
I have nightmares that I am forced to go back to work there, and those usually entail me having to stand before the congregation, denouncing myself and prostrating myself to beg forgiveness. In the dreams, I know that I am not sincere, but it is the only way to make money to feed The Boy, so I am doing it.
Truthfully, I think I’d hook it before I went back there. At least then I would feel like I was doing honest work. I say who, I say when, I say how much.
The other nightmares come from having worked for the BiPolar Express, a manager whose moods swung so far from left to right, it was unreal. If you’ve seen The Devil Wears Prada, you’ve seen the caricature of that boss. My lungs constricted with panic the first time I sat watching that film. It was bad enough looking up that haughty nose, into those laconically lidded eyes and raised brows in person. Seeing it larger than life?
I was laid off from that job, and I slunk away as though I had been fired.
I have frequent nightmares reliving that. Or reliving the fear I used to feel every morning. But in these nightmares, I always have to use the restroom and when I go, realize that there are no walls and I am out in the open doing my business while people watch.
I’m sure it means something.
