Fragments Of My Dreams Episode 10 – A Job As a Spy

I was innocent.  At least I think I was.  Apparently, in this dream, I was a girl.

It is a bright and sunny day.  I met this guy the other day and this new friend of mine referred me to this job opportunity.  It is not hard to find the office.  A wide open reception area with sunlight flooded into the interior of a modern design office space.  A few gentlemen in ties and formal dress code approach me at the front door area and ask if I know what this job is about.

“A classical vocalist,” I reply.

They exchange a few looks that I can hardly decipher and one of them ask me to sing a few lines.

The fact is, I don’t think I am qualified as a professional classical vocalist.  I told my new friend that I wish to be a classical vocalist.  There is a whole world of difference.  Nevertheless, he passed me a name card and asked me to turn up.

Maybe I am shy, maybe I am lacking of that confidence, my brief audition is a total disaster.  My voice is scratchy and thin.  I am about to leave this super massive embarrassment of mine when one of them says in  a casual tone, “Can you start now?  Our boss wants you to be in the job.”

*     *     *     *     *

For the past few months, my new friend – my boss – and I have infiltrated this new organization in separate capacity.  I hardly have the chance to see the sun and I hardly have the chance to see him.  I have a gigantic office for myself equipped with futuristic high tech gadgets blended perfectly with the minimalistic design that spells out the word “emptiness” so loudly, so in my face.  There is no life in this space.  I have no life in this place not of my own.

I have no problem working my way into this new organization either.  My apparent limit in my vocal skill seems to have been compensated by perhaps my earnestness?  Perhaps my …

So far, there is no direction, no instruction from the organization that I truly work for.  What am I suppose to do?  How am I suppose to infiltrate?  As I am leaving my office, a few men come up to me.  One of them say, “We want you to come us”.

Ushered through a myriad of hard to recognize lifts and corridors and rooms, we arrive at a room with blinking lights, no sound, and in the middle lies a huge mechanical cocoon.  What’s inside the cocoon?  I don’t need to wait long before I get the answer.

My boss is trapped inside this cocoon and he is wrapped with a mechanical suit and helmet that cover his entire body.  I gasp and take a moment to steady myself.  One of the men casts me a look of suspicion and says, “He is a spy and in no time we can extract all the information from his brain.”

*     *     *     *     *

Time is 7.42pm and I am staring through the large window inside my office as I strum my fingers on my desk.  It’s time to exit, I say to myself.  I pack my bag and leave.

Mission Abort.

2008.07.13