October 29th, 2004


Day Seized (by the doo-dads)

Yesterday, I had a sizeable loan to close, and the business owner was in Manhattan, so I told my boss (not asked) about going over and went out to get the papers signed. Then, I went to visit about five more business owners. One wants to do a few-hundred-thousand-dollar loan next month, which he was thinking of doing elsewhere until I made my appearance. "I love [BankCo]," he said. So that's good. Then I went to visit the shop of another of my clients, down on Greenwich Ave. They have some really amazing artwork. He's relatively close to my age, and we ended up chit-chatting, which almost never happens for me. Especially not when I've just been in a mood to hide from social interaction. I took my end-of-the-day conference call from a nearby park, which was lovely. After that, I called my boss and he told me I didn't have to come back for the day, so that left me smiling. It was only a block to the PATH, which I took to Hoboken, and then grabbed the Hudson-Bergen light rail back to where I parked my car. Then I drove straight home. On my own schedule!

All told, I must have walked a bunch of miles, criss-crossing Manhattan looking for these various businesses. Their owners live in NJ, and so set up their accounts close to home. But it just felt good to get out and be in the city, and to be moving with a purpose. This is my favorite part of my job; I only gave myself about 15 minutes for lunch, which I ate while calling in to the office so is that really time off? But my bosses don't really seem to care about that, or the fact that my production is among the top in north Jersey/Rockland county. They focus instead on what I'm not doing, which causes me to hate my job, which makes me come in late, which makes them focus on that instead of my performance, which. . . . It's a vicious cycle [in] which I fully accept responsibility for my part. I just need a new job. I can't take having different hours every day, unless I'm the one making those hours. It's a destructive influence in a life where I am trying to establish regularity and discipline.

I fell asleep last night at about 20:00, woke up at 2 from a car alarm, went to sleep later, woke myself up from a burgeoning nightmare at 03:30, and then went back to sleep til 7. I haven't been able to sleep this whole week, mostly with woes related to work/money/school. I had a nightmare between 02:00 and 03:30, which was more atmospheric than anything. I got a few presents, which my brother remarked was odd, because he was getting presents (his birthday was last week). So time was somehow fucked. I had my father's Timex on, and two of the presents I got were also analog watches. The watches showed a different time from my PDA, which showed a different time from the clock in my mom's apartment (where I was). And I got a present from myself, which my brother also said was odd. The dream started getting worse as soon as I realized there was something wrong with the time. A guy came in and said he was coming to fix the clocks, but they weren't broken, they just had different times. As I figured all this out, a noise like a deep, evil, subterranean burbling started coming from behind the TV. As the guy was bent over the TV working on it, I got the impression that he was Evil. With a capital E. So I said, "Satan, get thee behind me," in Latin. Then I was in my bed, but I couldn't move. I tried lifting my leg, and only after great effort could it, but I was still dreaming so all I really did was move my toes a little. That was enough to wake me up for real, though.

I wonder if the gift from myself wasn't saying that I was sending myself the "bad vibes" my dreams had been giving me. Which was odd, because I at first thought my antagonist was Satan, but then I realized that it was really my old buddy/nemesis Morpheus in Satanic guise. But what if I am Morpheus? I am used to lucid dreaming, and I woke myself from the fledgling nightmare because I knew I couldn't control it. I won't stay in any dream I can't control. It makes sense, at least, that I was the bearer of my own bad tidings. And I have been compared to Morpheus before, when I do the trenchcoat/sunglasses/shaved head thing. But all this time, have I been the Lord of Dreams? Have I been the one torturing myself? And can I reverse the tide and turn my dreams once more into things of beauty? I think so.

Hey, someone just won the Greaseman Quiz. "What do you call a camel with an Oedipus complex?" Too bad the guy didn't win the suitcase fulla diamonds. That honor will someday be mine.
I Want More LIFE!

I have a dream... (what, another one?)

I forgot my other dream of significance this morning. I dreamt I was in a mall, which I then proceeded to barricade, and I started trying to wake people up from how they had been dreaming. I tried to make them see the simple reality that if only they would be nice to one another, there would be no wars, no terrorism, no politicians (in order of escalating horror and # of casualties caused so far this millennium). I remember shaking one forty-something mother with two screaming kids and a shopping cart; shaking her by the shoulders and trying to explain to her how her actions had an effect on everyone on Earth. I tried explaining to her the principle of living by the Categorical Imperative; that it didn't just have to apply to negative consequences. Yes, if everyone killed someone, then we would all be dead (except, possibly, for one last guy who would then have to do himself in), and so killing is amoral. But the Imperative can also apply to good things. It doesn't have to be a bad/not bad dichotomy. Not having a negative effect is not the same as having a positive effect.

My Christ complex was in full control of the dream, until my paranoia teamed up with my persecution complex triggering the military/gov't to show up and demand that I stop telling people the Truth. They were trying, but they could not break the ordinary glass doors, not with their strongest tanks or largest explosives. The Truth was too strong. If I have one dream in life, it is this. I will not sit around hoping this dream comes true. Hope is necessary but it is useless without action. I live by the Categorical Imperative, though you might know it by another name: The Golden Rule.
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