Another dream about the Post Office. I was climbing a short ladder over the facer-cancelers to reach a maintenance access port, unscrewed two wingnuts while holding the top rung with the other hand, and the door didn't open. I had to remove two cover plates, and even then there was no door. I was going to complain to my supervisor for not having a sign indicating this was no longer an entryway to the crawlspace.

Of course, it doesn't really work that way. There are a few things unsafe at the USPS, but not the day-to-day stuff. At least, not for the technicians. But other things in this dream were weird, too. The machines, for one thing, were processing huge bundles, not just stacks of newspapers and magazines, but items several feet in length. That just doesn't happen at the Post Office.

Anyway, then I wandered around to find something to do. In real life, our supervisor would assign us to one area or another, but in these dreams I'm always a floater with no assignment. And I never get paid, for months on end. I suspect it's because I never remember to clock in or out, but the Maintenance office is always closed when I'm there, and so can't talk to anyone to resolve the problem.

I don't understand these recurring dreams about my old job... other dreamscapes seem to be alternate universes, or a rehashing of the day's events or of a movie I recently saw. In these I'm almost like a ghost, haunting my old workplace mostly unnoticed. And more scatterbrained than I ever was during the 11 years I worked there; I'd often forget to clock in and out for lunch, but almost never at the beginning and end of the shift.

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last updated 2013-01-10 21:01:46. served from tektonic.jcomeau.com