This was a weird one. I dreamt I was in the middle of a work meeting. The whole high-performance planning committee was there, the GM, the Director of Operations (yes, we have both a GM and a Director of Operations - that's just how serious we are!), the heads of Sales, and Marketing, and Production, and naturally I'm there as well. The CEO isn't there, but he usually gives those meetings a pass. There are about a dozen or so people in the meeting, and every one of them is chanting and banging on the table.
Pounding with their fists. Rhythmically. One pound per syllable of chant, and what they're chanting is: "Unintended Consequences."
"Un. In. Ten. Did. Con. Seh. Quen. Ces."
"Un! In! Ten! Did! Con! Seh! Quen! Ces!"
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
The volume and vehemence of the chant is steadily increasing. Everyone is looking around at each other, glaring meaningfully, making and holding eye contact with different people and just going to town pounding on this chant. I have no idea how it started! The situation was already in progress when the dream began. And I'm the only one there not chanting and pounding. Because I don't know exactly what's up, you know? I'm not going to just throw in my endorsement on this mob-style hostile pep demonstration.
Nobody's looking at me, though. I keep worrying uh-oh, maybe the eyes of the whole room are going to slowly gather and settle on me alone, as the beat goes on, because I'm the lone holdout. But it doesn't happen. Perhaps they're used to me being the lone holdout? I have a few points of principle I like to stand on, from time to time. Anyway, they take no notice of me. They just keep pounding and pounding, and yelling, and glaring around at each other with increasingly intense worked-up fury.
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
I woke up giggling. It was such a weird allegorical version of about how productive most work meetings can be.
Pounding with their fists. Rhythmically. One pound per syllable of chant, and what they're chanting is: "Unintended Consequences."
"Un. In. Ten. Did. Con. Seh. Quen. Ces."
"Un! In! Ten! Did! Con! Seh! Quen! Ces!"
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
The volume and vehemence of the chant is steadily increasing. Everyone is looking around at each other, glaring meaningfully, making and holding eye contact with different people and just going to town pounding on this chant. I have no idea how it started! The situation was already in progress when the dream began. And I'm the only one there not chanting and pounding. Because I don't know exactly what's up, you know? I'm not going to just throw in my endorsement on this mob-style hostile pep demonstration.
Nobody's looking at me, though. I keep worrying uh-oh, maybe the eyes of the whole room are going to slowly gather and settle on me alone, as the beat goes on, because I'm the lone holdout. But it doesn't happen. Perhaps they're used to me being the lone holdout? I have a few points of principle I like to stand on, from time to time. Anyway, they take no notice of me. They just keep pounding and pounding, and yelling, and glaring around at each other with increasingly intense worked-up fury.
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
"UN! IN! TEN! DID! CON! SEH! QUEN! CES!"
I woke up giggling. It was such a weird allegorical version of about how productive most work meetings can be.
Comments
Ever since I stared that recurring tsunami down...
And thank you also for your kind comments over on my poetry blog! I hope you don't mind, I never reply on the poetry blog (I try to leave the meaning as open as possible, at least right there under the poems themselves I like to keep my authorial pronouncements out of it! So to speak).
But to answer your questions (in reverse order):
2. Yes, it is a love poem, and
1. Yes, I did only just notice!