![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Canal Reves-Bizarres
Jan. 7th, 2011 08:55 amLast night was a whopper.
I dreamt I was back in Toronto, working as a temp in an open-ended job at Royal Bank. I was on the 30th floor. The job was in a dark call-centre environment but I don't remember if it was data entry or phone related. I got sick and went home on a Monday. Tuesday I was still sick, Wednesday not so much and Thursday I was just malingering because I hated the job. Steve said I needed to work and I told him, as he drove me down Broadview that I probably lost the job because of being home for three days. He dropped me off and I went up the elevator before realizing I was in the purple plaid pyjamas that I was in fact wearing as I slept. I called him to bring me some work clothes and went to the call centre.
The boss-man seemed benevolently disposed in a patronizing way. The workers were all getting ready for some kind of war re-enactment. They were putting on tin foil armour and metal plates and pots and pans, that sort of thing. Then we were released in an auditorium with seats and everything to fight another group. I was still in my PJs, with aluminum foil over them and a pot on my head. I think I got "killed" and after about half an hour we took a break.
I went back into the auditorium by myself since I was hoping the boss hadn't noticed I was in PJs. There was a large black man in much more serious armour in there. I "killed" him twice with my spear (I hadn't had a real weapon before) and complained that he wouldn't die, and I realized this was for real. I left and found myself in Kuwait. I wandered over to the PX complex and there was a Yule ritual going on. Someone cheerfully said they hadn't cast the circle yet, but the man leading the ritual said he was not a Wiccan so there wouldn't be any circle. We got in line and one by one passed beside something; might have been a fire but I don't know. It was something also covered in red velvet. We left the PX complex and were in Afghanistan. The man leading the ritual was our bus driver. As we drove, he said that Christmas was just the birthday of Sol Invictus. "Hail, Soly," he said and I woke up feeling like something had changed somehow, and I still have that feeling.
I dreamt I was back in Toronto, working as a temp in an open-ended job at Royal Bank. I was on the 30th floor. The job was in a dark call-centre environment but I don't remember if it was data entry or phone related. I got sick and went home on a Monday. Tuesday I was still sick, Wednesday not so much and Thursday I was just malingering because I hated the job. Steve said I needed to work and I told him, as he drove me down Broadview that I probably lost the job because of being home for three days. He dropped me off and I went up the elevator before realizing I was in the purple plaid pyjamas that I was in fact wearing as I slept. I called him to bring me some work clothes and went to the call centre.
The boss-man seemed benevolently disposed in a patronizing way. The workers were all getting ready for some kind of war re-enactment. They were putting on tin foil armour and metal plates and pots and pans, that sort of thing. Then we were released in an auditorium with seats and everything to fight another group. I was still in my PJs, with aluminum foil over them and a pot on my head. I think I got "killed" and after about half an hour we took a break.
I went back into the auditorium by myself since I was hoping the boss hadn't noticed I was in PJs. There was a large black man in much more serious armour in there. I "killed" him twice with my spear (I hadn't had a real weapon before) and complained that he wouldn't die, and I realized this was for real. I left and found myself in Kuwait. I wandered over to the PX complex and there was a Yule ritual going on. Someone cheerfully said they hadn't cast the circle yet, but the man leading the ritual said he was not a Wiccan so there wouldn't be any circle. We got in line and one by one passed beside something; might have been a fire but I don't know. It was something also covered in red velvet. We left the PX complex and were in Afghanistan. The man leading the ritual was our bus driver. As we drove, he said that Christmas was just the birthday of Sol Invictus. "Hail, Soly," he said and I woke up feeling like something had changed somehow, and I still have that feeling.
