Unprofitable

What surprises me most now is that this dream came with imagery. I normally have only a kinesthetic sense of the action in my dreams.

I shifted from a focus on a client crisis into preparations for work. The garb was professional – I haven’t worn a blazer and tie in two years. Arriving at work, I was handed a corporate relocation map by a young organizer. The properties to be acquired were highlighted in blue, but the layout didn’t translate to patterns of motion – I couldn’t infer streets, parking lots, or buildings. I turned to the organizer to request more information.

The scene shifted to a meeting with stakeholders. The context seemed to expand. I hung back on the wall, moving about the room to facilitate the integration of intentions. As the meeting broke up, I went to the sideboard for a drink.

A red-haired employee joined me, earnestly testifying that “It’s like you are within all of us.”

Looking him in the eyes, I offered humbly, “It only works if you do it together.”

He accepted the insight, and then saw through me into the ultimate purpose. I was not speaking only of the relocation, but of Heaven.

Finally, then I turned toward the door of owner’s office. He had stood aside, presiding over the events. Confronting the scope of the reality that I manage, he rebuffed my entry. There was no profit there.

No, I cannot be turned to profit. I am a liberator. It is the addiction to profit that drives people into fear. Can you not be glad simply that I am here to affirm the creative possibilities within them, when the alternatives are random acts of destruction? Is that not worth keeping me alive for?