Just Another Day At The Office

Date: 5/23/2017

By Fitful

I was moving wood and building so much it finally occurred to me I was in construction, actually working for a living. I was a bit dismayed at that, but determined to build and move the wood or whatever I was doing. This entire scene was compounded by the feeling of sawdust everywhere like snow in a snowstorm. It coated all the people working, their hair, clothes, tools, and wooden boards, and hung in the air making everything misty. People wore safety glasses just to see. ~~ I was a child, teenager, and living in a very very nice home, expensive and on some high floor like a penthouse suite. I had a girl over, a friend I think. She was very very weird. In fact she was a little crazy, but in the Luna Lovegood way. She was just so out there, in her head, and had all these bizarre responses to life's seemingly simple things. And they always seemed to make more sense than reality. She had blond hair and this plain oval face. We amused ourselves, as children are wont to do when parents aren't home. But mostly it was just boring. We talked a lot. I pulled out a sheif of papers, a list she had apparently answered, and began questioning her on her written replies. The first question was, Why am I Beautiful? The question implied me, as if I had asked that one of her. Her reply was so unusual and different from anything another person might have said. Something to the effect of, Why aren't other people? Beautiful is the way the world starts and always is, people just forget to see it. It actually got through to me and I believed it for a moment. Then she hid under the bed, she had heard a sound. I realized as I looked at her hiding under the bed, or rather sofa because we were In the living room, that she was often like that. Me peering down at her, her peering up, like a reflection in water. She was always like that in a way. The next morning my father came in, a tall thin gangly man with grey sharply cut hair and a suit, and began hissing furiously at me for the sleepover. He seemed to know/assume I had slept with her, despite we were both curled up on opposite ends of the sofa. He was upset I had been having sex with a girl, and with my brother in the next room. I was filled with an attitude, and a high amount of contempt for him, and didn't even believe my brother had been here during the night. ~~ It was a scene at night, and there was water everywhere. I was sitting, floating in water, the water seemed to be over a grid area, I was in a small corner of the grid on which the color of the water was slightly lighter. ~~ I was in a huge white office building, everyone had cubicles? Or perhaps just one vast connected desk stretching into infinity. It was this endless room with rows of these desks, miles apart. I didn't work for a living, that was very firmly known, but everyone did work here, I worked here. "Work" seemed to have a double meaning. I hadn't been in, in a while, and I was here to file a report. A neighbor across the desk to the left began talking about stuff I had done recently. I was surprised she knew so soon, or at all. She told me it's the grapevine. I do one thing and a dozen speculations on my motives were spread around in hours. I was a bit dismayed. My mother suddenly showed up, to the right on the other side of the table, in this horridly pathetic posture cringing and crouched like some abused sycophant, her face twisted in hate. "You're a rapist and a murderer!!" she hissed at me, her hands and arms twisted almost to deformity, her shoulders so bowed inwards. This sense of incredulity and the unfairness of the accusation hit me, while it felt slightly true it also felt completely wrong. I hissed back with this dangerous anger, "Who was it who had sex with her daughter when she was still a child?“ The sentence did imply that I was her daughter, and it was her fault completely. It also somehow implied the age which she did that which was either 4 or 14. I was so angry she was casting blame on me for what she did. As if I had raped her not the other way around. She twisted her face mulishly, now deformed to the point she was permanently hugging herself unable to get out of the posture, arms grown into her skin, and turned away refusing to answer. I went back to my paperwork, rage still there but elegant enough to realize it was just office politics. ~~ I was a young woman, breaking into a penthouse, although I'm not sure why. It was an expensive looking building, old and glorious and I passed quite a few Asian couple while waiting for the elevator. They came out and I had to wait for them to empty it before I got on. I also was breaking into an Asian couple's apartment.