I think unemployment is getting to me. I dreamt this morning that I was interviewing for a job doing programming, but once I got there nobody really wanted to talk about the job itself. The company was based in a huge, luxurious mansion, and all my potential coworkers were muscular, short on words, and wearing the kind of suit and tie normally associated with defending political leaders from bodily harm. I wasn’t interviewing with anyone in particular so much as I was listening to everyone tell stories about how they had to rough someone up to achieve some company goal. As time passed, the stories progressively got wilder, and the tales turned to epic superpowered combat (but still ending in something like a pickup truck getting repossessed).
I later found out that I was interviewing to be one of these metahuman repo-men, but that the job required me to code in PHP during the slow times when no faces needed rearranged.
Then, the dream turned to the saddest thing I’ve ever even heard of — a man whose only superpower was to die while reading a bedtime story to his children. I woke up in mid-sob. It was not cool.
