Day ten or eleven: I dreamt that I worked in a convenience store only it was much larger than your average gas station. I think there were between thirty and fifty of us there, and we had surprisingly little work to do. A woman was talking to me, she was nice, but then this guy came along and I think he's someone I follow on Twitter, but I can't be sure because I haven't met him in real life yet. He left, I worked for a while which was mostly just met standing around until this sheet of paper came my way. It was corporate paperwork that I had to fill out according to a guy I hadn't seen before who was obviously a member of management. I think someone asked me a question about Twister, and I answered by asking if they meant the old mat you put on the floor or a newer version. Nothing really happened that I remember being significant until I woke up.

Objects: Convenience store warehouse, woman, first guy, paperwork, second guy, Twister.

Yesterday in real life I did some tweeting about the Nike cleats that the Vanderbilt baseball team will be wearing. It really bothers me when people wear shoes that don't fit, and I understand that there is an art to shoe fitting that most do not have the time or energy to pursue, but there is no reason people can't be measured for cleats. I think the huge convenience store represents Vanderbilt and the shiny, glossy, here today, gone tomorrow fleeting baseball careers most of these players will have. Nike has created a convenience culture where substance is sacrificed on the altar of school colors, flash, and swag. People are happy, excited, and to question the monstrosity that is footwear purchasing in college athletics is a no-no because that's unpopular and I must be a crazy bitch to wonder why players aren't being measured when this is a simple fix to a rapidly growing disabled list problem.

The first guy could help me, but he's not the real power broker. The paperwork represents hoops I need to jump through to get to the big dogs. I don't know who they are, or how I'm going to get to them, but you have to pay your dues which is what these two men are telling me. They're encouraging me to infiltrate the senseless system, and I think the Twister game is a foreshadowing of how many ways I'm going to be pulled since there are so many areas I could venture into on the footwear path. The woman was nice, but she didn't really get why I was there, and no one told her because we don't really know ourselves until our purpose and passions are revealed in an arena when we can be that change we're seeking. That nothing happened was significant, because bureaucratic paperwork can tie a project up infinitely which is the sad truth about many institutions where change is not pursued since people are content to stay within the confines of their orange Nike boxes, ruining feet under the guise of promoting student athletes. Really a sad dream, wish I wouldn't have had it.

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