I was at a work function set on a hill in a country with monkeys. I was doing the rounds and seemed to be chatting to some old friends I have not seen much of in 10 plus years. My current work’s boss showed up and did the rounds and people were treating him like a super star. I got bored and started flying and circling the function.
My control was better than recent recollections of flying. At one point I got close to a big tree and had a small money jump on my. It has sharp claws. There also seemed to be an initiation for a concert hanging from one of the branches. I did not collect it.
Later, I was talking to someone and recollecting this. I then went looking for the invite, but it was nowhere to be found.
I was not concerned that people could see me flying.
I was sitting in the canteen of an old workplace <redacted>. I think I was working on my cycle training plans and looking at my heart rates zones on a scrap of paper. There was a grid. Most of the boxes were green end of line. The paper appeared worn.
Behind me he was a doctor. He was examining a duplicate of my paper scrap. Something on paper ” stopped working” as far as I can figure as supposedly I had a heart attack.
The Dr. was going to call it. I was next to him pounding on the paper and getting at him to try to revive me.
After a couple of minutes, he glanced behind him at the clock to note the time of death.
This was irritating as I clearly was alive. I started going through my current work drawer wondering how/who would get all my stuff. Woke up unsettled.
My poor eyesight was fixed by orthotics. The orthotics were padlock slide bolts. Very large ones complete with the metal bit that would attach to a fence. Reportedly, “there is nothing wrong with your eyesight. You are just seeing everything 8 pixels larger than normal. This leads to some fuzziness.”
The CEO of my company had been driving on a farm and was killed by a freight train. He seems to have driven across the train’s path. There was speculation regarding whether or not the company’s base of operations would move out of Russia.
Went to Peru to reproduce an attack on a computer system. Scary driving. Lots of running on foot as late. Weird geography. Guy from Germany writing malicious code. Stayed in secure place as “last time!”. Playing a board game.
A five minute scene. <redacted> was back in town and we fucked. It was enjoyable but nothing to write home about. We only did missionary. She could not kiss well.
Living in (recent) dream house. <redacted> lived in the back room. I had the front. There was a party. Next thing, <redacted> was living in the back room.
Something about stairs or an escalator in a 10? story building. Poor lighting – she was naked and skinny with a dark landing strip.
Signing off on data in the <redacted> lab. Referencing a SOP saying make sure follow it as a WFI sample was in alert.
Chatting with <redacted> about life in the lab. I was angling to get back in. She said they now were required to contact plate / swab shoe heels in the lab. We looked at each other both knowing that was ridiculous.
I said I’d still be complaining about unnecessary monitoring if I was still there.
I was in a corner at work. My boss comes over. “I guess everyone can hear from here. Your trip to Moscow has not been approved”.
Worried about money in my wallet. A stranger on a bike thought to be shadowing me.
A petrol station had a hotel out back. Room 80. When I found the “room”, it was a shelf on a wall.
Other “residents” evicted as not sharing the landlord belief in creation
Hotel had a blue collar theme. Strange setup. Alternated between clear land before the building of K-Mart in Moe and Matthew Flinders (but no resemblance).
I think I was at a job interview and I said “I’m a fucking microbiologist”. There was a big kerfuffle after that.
I said legally they could not take offense as a judge has recently ruled that “fuck” had entered the common vernacular and was now ok to use in polite conversation.
I think I was back at my old place of employment.
In real life, I’d seen an ad for a night shift microbiologist.
I was driving along what was supposed to be the ring road at an old place of employment. Various vehicles were driving the wrong way and some were parked in choke spots preventing me from getting past.
One male human in a truck blocking me was reversed to a petrol bowser. While he did this, he was talking on a mobile phone. He was then out of the truck next to a bowser talking on the phone.
I recall considering driving half on, half off the road to pass him on my left, however there was quite a drop down a slope which would have had my car tilting at over 45 degrees.
I asked him to get off the phone as it was illegal to use one near petrol pumps. He ignored me. I then poked him. He claimed I was harassing him. I informed him he was in break of EH&S regulations. I wanted to get a photo of him and his vehicle, but only had my phone camera (so could obviously not use it unless I wanted to be a hypocrite). I could not communicate well, muddling my words. This dream dragged along for a while. A motorcyclist was filling up and apparently though I was talking to him. This was despite no phone use. I said something like, “Yes, I know, I’m talking to this guy”.
Frustrating as being ignored, not being able to speak clearly and others not following the clearly established rules.
I had teed up a Skype interview and when I logged onto it, a whole bunch of other programs were installed, like an office suite. I remember some sort of Excel type program and a photo manipulation program.
The interview required me to create some graphic designs and typography using fonts I did not have. There was no instruction as to if I needed to do this now or later. The requirements seemed do you be out of a quiz book with cheap greyish pages.
Something about me with an undersized orange and blue BMX and not sure if part of the interview dream. First chapter was longer and will detailed in my recollection.