I only wish I were chased by gorgons, or succubi.
Instead, it’s Bob from accounting, and he’s fully clothed,
asking me to use algebra to figure out what account to put a sale in.
This is my recurring dream, which I have no more often than I sleep
as far as I know, which is not much – the nature of these dreams is I forget
or have no words to relate them – my waking descriptions are at best analogies.
Many do involve math, but as often it’s shapes that can’t be made to fit,
not finding an address for some mundane errand,
some black and white catastrophe of suburban branch-office blandness.
I wake up tired from these, sometimes with an urge to urinate
which I think might be related but none of these involve fluids,
or tides, or waterfalls, or bathrooms, but more reasonably:
I remember because I am waking, not waking because I’m remembering.
They relate to my workload in some non-linear way, which, were I dreaming,
I would try to solve for the area under the curve by asking everyone in a focus group
and taking the square root of the average. I don’t code, but my job often involves
focusing on things that, strictly speaking, aren’t there, or can’t be fished out
with the tools at hand.
They seem to have evolved from an older dream – one where I see something,
hope to come back for it later, and fail.
As I’ve aged I think I’ve seen everything once,
and come back to it so many times I’ve forgotten what I’m looking for.
Meditation helps – it’s a relief sometimes to be awake enough to know
you are considering a koan – the sound of one hand clapping,
perhaps, or more prosaically,
no work, no food.