(9/27/06) taste the difference

(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 PM on Q-train from 57th Street and 7th Avenue in Manhattan to Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I knelt down by a desk at work. I heard my boss BS talking on the phone to a woman (named Lisa?).

BS said, "I'm not telling you to buy the stock. I'm just telling you to reconsider what you think about the company. All I ask is that you taste the difference."

As BS made the last statement I felt gross -- disappointed that BS would say such a cheap thing. "Taste the difference" was the slogan for the company BS was defending.

I stood up and walked to my desk. I was now in the office kitchen, walking toward my desk. I thought, still, how odd it was that BS would have this weird, superficial argument when he really should have been resolving deeper emotional issues with this woman, and especially that he would use the cheap company slogan as his capping argument.

I turned to my desk, wiping off my glasses, which were thickly dropped with a water-like substance. But I couldn't clean them.

BS was at my desk. He said, chuckling a little, "That Lisa."

I couldn't place who BS was talking about. Was it a client? I didn't really care. But I chuckled in awe, anyway, as if I really did care.