I dreamed I was rushing to an interview at a newspaper in St. Louis. Traffic was terrible, and as we got closer, I decided to ditch the car and go the rest of the way on foot. There were emergency vehicles screaming by, cutting around the stopped cars, and as I got closer, I realized they were heading to the office that was my destination. By the time I got there, though, the fire had been put out, and all the bystanders were cheerful, congratulating the emergency personnel and each other on a job well done.
I went into the office -- a large, brick and stone building with enormous arched windows -- and up the steps to reception. I immediately spotted my friend and neighbor (who is IRL a realtor, not a journalist) and knew that I would be interviewing with him. We sat at a round table, and chatted about mutual friends. He offered me the job on the spot, and I was pleased and proud.
He took me on a tour of the offices; the desks were densely crowded together, spilling from one office to the next, and all the desks were piled high with folded fabric of all patterns, textures, and sizes. People were seated at their desks, their computers nestled between the stacks of fabric, and would stretch to peer up over the cloth to greet me. One person explained the fabric kept them warm when necessary, and indicated the huge, arched window behind him.
I was about to ask where I'd be sitting, when I remembered that I live in Cambridge with my family, and couldn't commute to St. Louis every day. I also remembered that I am not a journalist. Regretfully, I declined the job, and headed back down the steps and outside.
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