(3/4/10) shave your face!

(Entered in paper journal 6:15 AM, on B-train into work from Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I sat in an office room. The room was small, unlit, with a little daylight coming through a window, from which I was separated by a tall, bookshelf-like partition between desks. There may have been four desks in the room, in pairs, the pairs partitioned by these tall, desktop "bookshelves." The space was cluttered with papers, and it all had an old feeling to it, like the old back office at a National Park.

I sat angled (in a swivel chair?) so that I could see the door. Through the door and across a fluorescent-lit hallway was a smaller room. In that room, my boss CR (?) stood talking with an old boss of mine, PG. I was surprised and happy to see PG here, and I hoped she would come talk to me.

She finished talking with CR and came over to talk with me. She looked a little different: her hair was paler than its usual dark red-brown. And somehow she looked larger than before. She sat down and spoke with me for a moment. I was so happy to be able to show her I'd gotten this far along in my career. PG stood up and walked past my desk, toward the windows.

A man now walked into the room. He was tallish, wide-framed, fattish, with a wide, bald head tufted with a grey and white cloud bank of hair on the sides. He either sat down or stayed standing and addressed me. He  handed me a big pocketknife. The knife was maybe six inches long. The handle/case was some kind of wood-colored plastic or stone material, capped at the ends with metal.

I pulled out one of the blades in the case. It was an old-fashioned shaving razor. The man told me, "Now use it! Shave yourself! Shave your face!" He told me to do so as if that was what the next phase of my career depended on.