Nocturnal Infiltration

I used to dream of good stuff. Scenes were always in technicolor - like in movies shown on big theaters. The sky was always a palette of blue, orange and yellow - like daybreaks on a cloudless dusky afternoon. I often saw myself on top of a hill looking at the vast plains below. No wonder, I enjoy high places staring at the horizon. When there were no hills in sight, eyes cast their gaze over anything that would let me savor wide open spaces: endless fields, a forests of evergreens, a sleepy cityscape in the distance. Everything was at peace.

Nightmares were not so different. I dream of dead bodies. Scores of them. There's a trip to the morgue or the anatomy lab - with my eyes closed of course when passing through the aisles; The march of metallic stretchers with bodies sheathed in white; loved ones, who had long gone suddenly dropping by for a small talk.

These were normal occurrences - in my sleep - until some kind of dreaded scenes started infiltrating my dreams.


Rain Darwin once said that when he used to be a salaried guy, he did dream about his work. His was a life under constant pressure. He had to give up his personal freedom to become a slave of his workforce.

Until he decided to liberate himself from the corporate world.


Passion runs high in my blood. Responsibility and order go on top of my list. My supervisor said I should never let my job ruin my life. But with how things are going, and my ever growing desire to run the campaign as smooth (to the point of redundancy) as possible, a slice of my thoughts never let go of work.


That's why my only breathers at the moment are the gym and the writing. Sleep is a luxury that is becoming more expensive these days.


I see faces and hear voices (perhaps of our Argentine clients) whenever I stay away from work for long periods. My creative juices go towards finding ways to make the agents' job less stressful and more enjoyable. Their whims get satisfied whenever I floorwalk. I get rattled easily by my irate supervisor, and in turn, her ranting goes all the way into the deepest consciousness in my head. All these portents I tried to brush off before. But with the training still in full swing, and with my first one on the bigger fray ending in a near disaster this morning, its no surprise that when I closed my eyes to get some rest this evening, the first person who knocked me back to wakefulness was none other but the faces and the voices and the training that is set for tomorrow.