Dream Job

“Mind is the creator of everything. You should therefore guide it to create only good.” – Paramahansa Yogananda, The Law of Success.

Now that’s more like it.

I had another whopper of a nightmare this week, but this time at least there was a motive for my madness.

In my last post I discussed this terrible dream I had where I was the gun-toting villain in a mass shooting scenario.

The episode was bad enough in its own right but things got so much worse when I woke up because I couldn’t not nail down a direct source for this mental massacre--and I still haven't.

I wasn’t angry at anyone at the time and--as far as I know--I hadn't been influenced by anything that I had seen on TV. And yet there, I was blazing away like Elliot Ness at a bootlegger’s barbeque.

The experience left me quite shaken, but I’m relatively happy to report that my nuttiness took a more discernible path in the latest slumber time epic.

In this dream I’m working at some company with a former coworker who had somehow become my boss.

The co-worker—we’ll call him Clyde—had just fired me and I had to go to the office to clean out my desk.

I remember standing before this massive metal door that was slowly cranking up to reveal two security guards, one of whom was holding a rifle.

I guess Clyde was pretty angry with me.

My sister, who is an attorney, is standing next to me as the security guards put out some boxes so we can clean out our desks.

Clyde and Seek

Either she worked at this place, too, or she was there as my legal representative. I’m not quite sure.

One of the boxes was the standard get-your-stuff-and-leave size while the other was big enought to double as cardboard casket.

The dream—or what I remember of it—ends with me asking my sister which box she wanted and then opening one of them to find fresh laundry inside. Maybe that was some kind of consolation prize for getting canned.

Now this dream was straight-up weird and upsetting, but at least I can trace its roots. Earlier that day I started thinking about my ex-coworker Clyde and how he used to get away with murder at our company.

In a complete waste of time and energy, I worked myself up into a two-ton tizzy about the unfairness of something from the distant past.

I mean, gosh, it’s not like I have anything else better to do, like, oh, I don’t know…my current job?

My sister’s role in this midnight melodrama was probably inspired by the fact that she was due to fly home from Los Angeles the next morning, and I always get tense whenever one my family members gets on an airplane.(She arrived safely, thank God.)

So, there you have it: my subconscious mind took the Clyde-fueled hissy fit, mixed in my airborne agita about my sister’s travel plans, and whipped up a first-rate psycho omelet. Freud can sit this one out.

Now really I’m trying to get a lesson out of this experience about spinning the wheels of my mind in fear and resentment. It's the stuff that bad dreams are made of.

Maybe this will be a teachable moment where I use my mind to create only good during the day and give myself a break at night.

And I'll from now on I'll only say nice things about Clyde.