Fighting The Dream

I was asleep.  I was dreaming.  And I was fighting both.

In my dream someone came in to my office and demanded, yelled, wanting to know if I knew anything about ‘this’.   And with that he threw three files, lying layered upon one another, on to the floor.  He didn’t hand them to me.  He slammed them on to the floor in his righteous contempt and disgust.

My first comment was ‘well maybe if I read it I can tell you about it’.   And the files were in my hand but I had not bent down to pick them up.

I knew the situation.  And I didn’t feel I needed to explain anything to him.

And

Then

I

Got

Pissed.

In my dream.   Then something kicked in and made me want to wake up.  I was fighting the dream.  I was fighting to wake up I was so incredibly angry.

I finally woke up and it felt like I had to break through and when I did wake up that is exactly the feeling I had.  Like I had burst right out of that dream.

It was one of those nights.  I told myself that first, it was a dream, and second, he had no right to question what had or had not happened as he had no role in it.

Go back to sleep.

And I went back to the dream.

It felt like half the night was spent falling back in to that dream.  And the other half trying to fight my way out of it.

And the angrier I got, the more it became about the files thrown on the floor.

And after the initial time I had found them in my hands, every time I fell back asleep after that, the files remained there and I was not about to pick them up.

So morning breaks.

And so did that dream’s relentless grip on my sleep.

But not on my conscious and determination to figure out what the heck it was all about.

I have tried and tried to come up with some in depth meaning to what my subconscious is trying to tell me. What was the point of the man coming in to office.  Was it about confrontation?  Was it about self doubts or concern regarding my job performance?  Was it all about my conflicts regarding defining existentialism?

It really comes down to this.

Do not ever come in to my office, throw a stack of three files down on the floor and think I will pick them up.

It will not happen.