Discolor Online

I had a vivid dream in which all manner of personal betrayals played out. I have awakened, feeling the weight of emotion on me, every ounce of rage,betrayal, hurt, and disbelief riding along on the surface of my consciousnessas if the events of the dream had really happened to me, just now.

I've lived these feelings before in real circumstances. I've hoped to never have to feel them again, especially the feelings of betrayal. It's disturbing to have them triggered by a dream. In the dark strangeness of the hotel room, in my uncomfortable hotel bed, I toss and turn trying to rest at ease. Through the thin hotel walls I hear a baby mewling in the next room. Trains rumble along, tooting their horns and triggering the clanging crossing guards. The dream holds tight and refuses to fade away with the rising sun.

I dreamed I was in a sandwich shop. Some of my business partners were there, milling around fixing sandwiches as I mulled over some unpleasant information. The guy who waltzed into Chris's cubical within a day of having maneuvered himself into being Chris's new boss and gleefully told him to toss out all the work he'd been doing over the last year was involved in these goings on somehow. So was the guy who made sure all references to Chris were removed from the company's products after Chris left the company (regardless of thefact that they were actually reprinting his work and words). Guys who'd used their positions as Brand Manager to fuck with everything Chris touched were extending their slimy tentacles into our new business somehow, though what exactly had happened is not clear to me. The overwhelming feeling was one of deep, personal betrayal. You thought we were friends, but I'm fucking you over. You thought you could trust me, but I was just using you for my own glorification. I'm using things I've gleaned about you to further my own agenda, smiling to your face while stabbing you in the back the instant it's turned to me.

One of my new colleagues set a sandwich down in front of me. Looking at it from outside of the dream, it was very much like the ice cream party Wizards of the Coast threw for the remaining staff after one of their rounds of layoffs, as if ice cream would make the remaining workers forget that people they'd worked with for over a decade had just been politely escorted from the building. As he walked away, I put the events together and blurted out, "They all knew! They've known this whole time." The guy I thought was one of my oldest friends knew what would happen. My new colleagues had been informed. They knew, they were complicit, they participated in masking the charade until it was revealed to me, merely a pawn and a player.

The last thing in the world I wanted was a sandwich. A neutral party in the sandwich shop said of my other colleagues, "Wow, they sure turned pale when you said that." The horrible truth sinks in, we've been screwed again.

The intense feelings brought bubbling up by this dream begin to fade. Despite the trains and the traffic noises, despite the yahoo in the next room blabbing and roaring as if he were a Norse storyteller, my eyes droop again and I feel the tension of the unpleasant memories mixed with remnants of dream flow out of my body and over the thin hotel mattress. The challenges of packing the car with too many convention left overs and beginning the long drive home still lie ahead of me, but at last I think I may be able to sleep again for another hour or two.

Please let it be dreamless.