Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Open Dream Journal: The Security Exercise

In the dream I was Anton Chekov. Yes, from Star Wars. The dream was set at my old work, in the gigantic underground shaft room. It was - functionally - like an elevator, except there was a gigantic corridor running off from it, to a distance invisible. In the right hand wall was an angled doorway - no door, despite the elevator-like function. This was stuck halfway between floors, and you see somebody was dead in there already.

The security exercise was being conducted by someone who looked like Scotty, but who looked even more like today's James Doohan (I was Chekov in his prime). Someone we all trusted. We'd all showed up for this exercise on a Saturday because we wouldn't miss it. The guy was a world class expert on security; it was a point of pride we'd each been invited at all. Apparently in this exercise though, he was the baddie. Maybe he always was. Maybe he really was - it was part of the legendary hushed-tones fun of these exercises. He was holding forth and everyone was responding zombielike to cues.

I was ten minutes late to the exercise, and already everyone's will had been broken. In fact, I had been expressly forbidden to come, despite having been invited! Ten minutes earlier I had seen everyone else go off for the exercise while I sat in a meeting with my old boss. I was sad, and so was everyone else that I wouldn't be there. I was sure I'd be fired, but instead my boss (stern as always, no, more an affectation of gruffness, which she called "frank") opened up a padded parcel bag and withdrew a softly silvery uniform shirt - bearing Starfleet lieutenant sleeve insignia (no, I don't think that's a thing. In the dream it was)! A promotion! "Now go to the exercise," she smiled all gruff.

I interject, this was pretty much not the way promotions were handled at my old job.

It was at this point, running off doffing my old yellow shirt and making the switch to this new sleek job, I realized I was Chekov. Prior to that, I'm pretty sure I wasn't even wearing go go boots. There was zero dissonance in any of this. Ah, dream logic fluidity, if only we could bottle ya.

So I get there and everyone's will is broken. Defiant (naturally, it's kind of my character) I confronted the mastermind and he lost patience with my failure to respond to his cues. It was partly embarrassment on my part - I was late! I didn't know the cues. In fact, the quickness of everybody else's work astounded me. They didn't even seem to know me. I knew them all. Bones was like, "who the hell are you supposed to be?" as the mastermind huffed off into and down the corridor - insulted by my deft defiant repartee.

Nonplussed, unsure what my character name was supposed to be given the variety of people present, I replied brightly, "Everyone knows me!" And seeing Bones "got" that, on a level, this was undeniably so, I fixed him with a warm hug of gaze and smile. "You are my friend, 'Bones'!" He broke into aw-shucks warmth, as always. Moving to the next person, a girl I knew from the internet and loved with all the fierceness and loyalty of an old goose despite we've kind of drifted apart, "And you are my friend,"

There was an unwelcome pause, while she looked at me brightly. The name that popped to mind was not quite her forum name. Luckily, everyone was wearing name badges, but hers was not quite her real name either. Calling Bones "Bones" had been my ace in the hole. His name tag had said "Dr McCoy," but I had called him without hesitation Bones. Only I knew that. I looked at her face expectantly. She was miffed.

I moved on, but the momentum of my plan was irreparably broken if I did so. I shifted back towards her with unfeigned ease, smiling all the brighter. "Nalers!" I cried. It was a nickname of mine/ours, based on her forum name. Her mouth set in a line. Turning to the room, my voice tightening and ascending in pitch, I announced, "And of course I forgot to do the cartoon voice!" Several of the people from old work and the industry were nonplussed. They weren't from the old forum. They didn't know about the cartoon voice.

The situation was rapidly deteriorating, so I woke up and got some water.

Fucking Chekov. Oh yeah, the whole time in the exercise I was back in my yellow shirt!

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