Dreaming of a New Religion
Yesterday, I found a dream tucked in the pocket of my Moleskine (that sounds like a euphemism) that I jotted down on a scrap of paper on the morning of December 29, 2006:
It was my first day at a new job. I’m not sure what I did, but it seemed like I took the job as a last resort. I was at my desk in the communal work area. The desks were in a row that faced the front, like a classroom with bigger desks.
Bored with trying to pretend I was working, I got up and walked into the hallway. It looked like one in a shitty apartment building: no windows, dirty, and lots of wood trim. A girl I once knew walked out from another office. From what I could see, it was more a living room than an office. We were talking, the usual awkward small talk one has when running into someone they once had a connection with. I noticed there was another girl with her wearing a hood over her head. Suddenly, I realized the other girl was the first girl I ever fell in love with. I yelled her name, “____!”, and we embraced.
Then, from that same office, a bunch of people came out. It seemed like a meeting had just ended. They told me they found a new religion and asked if I wanted to meditate. I agreed. I was told to remove my clothes. I did and joined the others. In groups, we stood around these things that looked like Marcel Duchamp’s Bottle Rack (Bottle Dryer). We knelled down and intertwined our arms around the rack. It was like a basket weaving of limbs. I had a hard time figuring out the pattern, but eventually got it. Blankets were pilled on top of us.
I started to sweat and was very uncomfortable, so I whispered to the person next to me, “How long do we have to do this?”
“Three hours”, he said.
“Th… th… three f%$#ing hours!?” I yelled. I grabbed my pants and left.