So most people have nightmares, but how many people wake up in a fit of rage for reasons other than their alarm clocks? I woke up at around six this morning, livid from a dream I had. For some reason, I was taking a shower in my parent's basement inside of a modified laundry washer. I had to squat under a short hose that was dangling above me. Suddenly, through the door window leading out of the laundry room, I could see someone walking up to the fence outside. They began digging through a few piece of scrap wood that had been lying next to the fence, but unsatisfied with what they found they, they ripped off the top of the gate and began walking away.
Enraged by their theft and destruction of my gate, I bounded outside naked and wet and ran after them. "What the hell do you think your doing?" I demanded.
"This was just lying back there in the scrap pile, so I took it," the person lied.
"The hell you did, you tore that off of our gate. Now go put it back," I demanded.
"No, I need it," the said.
"What the hell are you talking about, 'You need it?' It's ours, it's a part of our gate, now go put it back," I insisted.
"I need it for my gate. It's the right size," they kept arguing.
It was fairly obvious at this point that this was a dream about work. I deal with human scavengers on a daily basis who waste vast quantities of my time and patience by wanting to know the prices of little bits of wood they find lying about. They come carrying them to me like pack rats, saying, "It's just the size I need." Should there be no wood for them, they'll fall into a deep depression. Meanwhile, it becomes increasingly difficult to mask my disgust with them. I sell wood. I don't give wood out as presents to underdeveloped rodent people. If they want wood for free they should try the forest.
The thief asks to speak with the manager in a no-nonsense tone. Even though this is my parent's house, one shows up, and I become the target of a heated debate. No one seems to mind I'm naked and wet. The general semblance to the argument is that I am wrong, and that this person should get there way like a spoiled child because they want to. As usual, with all arguments involving anyone I speak to, the other person provides no compelling statements, or evidence to support any claim, besides a basic, "Gimmie gimmie gimmie! Wah wah wah!"
I'm an English Major, which means I had to spend a large portion of my life developing professionally-worded arguments to support my statements in essay after essay after essay. I was judged on the merit of my logic and my carefully researched references. Then I entered into a world of fools who presume the righteousness of their petty causes is enough to persuade anyone. I'm expected to go along with whatever ridiculousness my opponents conjure up. Any attempt to break down their defences is met with, "Are you calling me a liar?" I of course, am, but I am unable to admit it for reasons of employment, or else a lack of heart.
After six years of so of this lifestyle, however, it begins to chip away at your reason. Tempers begin to shorten. I'm actually repulsed by most of the people who greet me nowadays, as unconsciously I can guess at their intent. Their quivering, greasy moustaches belie their childish logic.
There's many situations I encounter which I deem unfair, or unjust. I'm no different from anyone else in that regard. My reaction to a no-win situation involving something so miniscule and bizarre, might even be the same, but as the dream ended, all I was left with was rage.
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