A towering inferno grows out from underneath the cubicles of the modern-style office. The blaze melts the computers on the desks and burns the stacks of pages lying around like a box of gasoline soaked matches.
There I stood in the middle of the chaotic scene with my tote bag in tow. I peered out from behind the flames and calmly announced the phrase, “I quit,” and nonchalantly walked out of the front door.
The next moment I found myself shooting up into a sitting position in my bed. I had dreamt of the most dramatic “Office Space” style job exit, and thought nothing of it until I got to work that morning. Somewhere between the burning fames of my unconscious and the boiling hot coffee in the break room I had forgotten my dream. It was mostly due to memory loss from lack of sleep.
Up until then I had either shown up to the office so tired I feared that if I blinked for too long I would slip into a coma, or so hopped up on espresso that I would keel over in the most massive coronary attack. Full time grad school and working full time at that point made no sense, and after speaking with my superiors, I followed the path of my dream from the previous night, sans inferno, and quit. That day I returned to my apartment and spoke about the day’s events to my roommates.
“Did you plan to publish a post on your blog today about grad school and not being able to work?” one roommate asked.
“Oh my goodness, that was completely unplanned,” I said. “I wrote that the week before and just scheduled it to automatically publish today.”
Jazzed About Stuff 