A Singer and CEO
Dream | January 2, 2010
Running through wet cobblestone streets in some Eastern European country like the Ukraine. I'm wearing a suit and tie, and the sky is overcast and dismal. All around me are massive buildings in Greek and Roman architecture. They're built by some ancient monarchy in its heydey, weathered by a half-century of communism, and now they are corporate offices.
Up broad marble steps I bound, and between the huge pillars of the façade of a very imposing building. I have a meeting with the boss!
Then I'm running through a vast hall with high ceilings and rows of tables, like a dining room. It's dimly lit with soft lights from the walls, and candles set about randomly. The room is split into two levels, and I'm on the upper. I head towards a row of tables set against the divider. Further down is a marble staircase to the lower level. A few people are sitting at some tables here and there. They are almost invisible in the gloom, but I can hear them rustling papers.
The boss meets me before I get to the table. He doesn't look like any boss I've ever had. His face is wide and scowling. His manner is very brusque and impatient. He's short and fat and balding, with clumps of hair on each side, and strands of straight black hair stretched from the from of his scalp to the back.
"Good good" he says, grimacing, and orders me to sit down. There's a monitor on the table, glowing blue. I ask him about the nature of our meeting. The SOEMI software, he says. I says it's old and inefficient and needs to be upgraded. He says the software is fine, we need to adapt to it better. He's clicking on menus on the screen. Then he says, "here, look at this," and opens something up.
A window opens up on the screen. It's a video of a man singing or shouting, speaking in some strange language. For the first few minutes it's hard to tell, but I start to get the impression this is my boss. Since I can't understand the words, I'm not sure if I should be enjoying this or analyzing it or sitting there observing it. Then my boss is up there next to the monitor, like a split-screen, and since I'm sitting down, the monitor appears large and the singing man is life-size. The similarities between the two men become more apparent. In my mind I'm making parallels between facial features. Bulbous nose, heavy eyebrows, scowling mouth.
In the middle of the room is a shallow stage with a black screen, framed with columns on each side and jagged Gothic decorations along the bottom. And the monitor fills up this space and the video is now playing on this giant screen, and since my boss is standing up in front of me, he is still, visually, the same size as the man in the video. And he's singing along in the same angry, operatic manner, both men making the same motions.
The man in the video stops singing and suddenly there's a thunderous applause that blast through the hall. The video then zooms out to show a few people in the audience, and some milling around the stage and in the aisles. Then he's telling me about this night at the opera where he got to sing. Like open-mike night at the opera hall I suppose. Gesturing towards the scant audience on screen he says, "No, there were five billion people there that night," and suddenly the video shows a packed house and lively audience, applauding the lone man on stage.
So I'm like, "wow, I didn't realize my boss was a singer and a CEO." For the first time I notice he's wearing like an 18th century suit with a white ruffled shirt, like an old maestro might wear. He's basking in the glory of that day. He produces a bottle of champagne and two glasses, and proceeds to pour himself a huge gobletful, then slosh a few sips into a medium-sized glass for me. That's fine coz I don't really like champagne. With a big gulp he downs half his glass while I take a sip out of courtesy.
At this point we're sitting just below the stage. I'm lounged in an elegant chair with an elbow over the back, and I realize I am naked. Where are my clothes? A vanilla white sheet is draped over me. Luckily the boss is still enraptured by the event on screen, since I suppose a sheet could not be considered proper business attire.
Then I'm dozing off... slumping against the back of the chair and letting the cup slip, but at the last moment I get a grip on it without spilling a drop. The boss notices I'm sleepy and makes a brusque noise to indicate the meeting is over.
So I get up and wrap the sheet around me like a dress, and guzzle the last bit of champagne. Over at the other desk my clothes are piled on the chair I sat on. So I gather them up in a bundle and am about to ask the boss about the software we were discussing, when someone behind me interrupts with a question. They get into a conversation and I wander off and wake up...