I had a dream last night that I was offered two jobs:
One was as a personal assistant to a man who ran a cafe/restaurant situated on an intersection corner. The walls lining the two cross streets were made of floor-to-ceiling windows, and I sat at a table in the lobby, sun filling my senses. I worked with Miranda’s assistant Emily, who was surprisingly helpful in showing me around. We would be sharing a room behind the cafe/storefront, since the few employees boarded on site.
The other job was at a dark sculptor’s studio that reminded me eerily of the first job I held in FtC. As I was giving Steve a tour of my options in this European town with cobblestone streets, I couldn’t even get close to the building holding said studio for fear that an old coworker would step out, and I would be sucked into chains and paid just enough to put up with fearful and berating comments about overshadowing my supervisor.
When I woke up this morning, I made a commitment to one day only accept positions that would place me by a large window.