Dr. KP came up to me. KP is about my age. She was one of Dr. S's post-docs. Had a bit of a crush on her. But then again, I had a crush on most of Dr S's post docs... particularly JS the Statistician. But that's unimportant. KP looks like she has something serious to talk about.
"Kev, you should talk to SH.."
"Welll.... maybe you should go up to the 5th floor."
Oh. The 5th floor. Main reception when you get off the elevator. The only floor accessible without a keycard. The brains. The spot where a few friends and acquaintances are, and at least one joke about the time I played an unexpected 3 hour solo set in Salem still floats around.
I don't know this person.
"Kev, I have some bad news."
"Heh. Yeah, let me go talk to my supervisor. Later."
I go back down to the third floor, where I work. I tap my supervisor, a fellow Discordian, of a fairly Erisian persuasion, and a friend on the shoulder and I ask her if we can go out for a smoke. She gives me a wincey smile. We walk to the elevator and get on. She knows that I'm on a bit of a spiritual journey, though, I haven't told her that I have temporarily recently adopted her ancestral religion. I'm tempted to ask her more about Judaism, but I don't actually know how involved she is, if at all. And well, really, this is more about the informality.
We sit on the bench in front of the art college, where she and I usually smoke together.
"I hate to tell you this, but..."
"I'm laid off."
"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
"I wish I could tell you."
"Why me? I've been working here for 13 years."
"Well, the reason for that is because you've worked here for 13 years, you're the highest paid per hour."
"And I'm scheduled at the minimum 20 hours. Which means I make less than everyone else."
"I know. It doesn't make a lot of sense."
"You're right. It doesn't."
I must've been half asleep.
"SH, I think that I'm asleep."
"This doesn't make sense. Even less sense than expected."
"You're awake. This is real."
"I'm having my doubts."
"Does this hurt?"
SH pinched me hard.
"OWWW!!! Yeah, that hurt! But I'm still not convinced. There's only one way to prove it."
I begin to stare at the glass bowl in front of me. (Hey, where did this glass bowl come from?)
"Are you trying telekinesis?"
"You're awake. This is real. It's not going to work."
I strain. I hope. Goddamnit how is telekinesis done anyway?
MOVE YOU FUCKER!!!!
The bowl went flying. Into JS the Statistician's boob. Whoops....
"Sorry about that!"
"I thought I was real."
"I'm pretty sure you're real. At any rate I know you in real life. Don't know about anyone else, since they mostly seem like background characters. I know them in real life too, but they don't seem to be interacting with us. Maybe we're stuck in the same dream?"
Then we're both back on the third floor, but it's dark, and chaotic, and all of the post-docs and principal investigators are getting manic and psychotic. They're tearing the place up. I turn to SH and say, "Either way, I think we need to get out of here."
I roll over. My alarm hasn't gone off yet. Maybe it doesn't have to. Did I get laid off or not?
I must have been asleep.
:alarm goes off:
So... do I have to get up or not? I can't remember. I must have just woken up.