Colleagues or Comrades?

It was the twelfth hour of work on a Saturday morning, at, you guessed it, 3am that I had an epiphany. This was a miracle in itself seeing as I had stopped thinking a few hours back.  I kid you not, someone said my name and I had to think for a minute why the random sounds coming out of that human’s mouth meant something to me.  It occurred to me that I loved the people around me, when earlier in the day had meant nothing really to me. These were my work mates. We had suffered the similar lashings of a 12+ hour shift of break-less, food-less, sober-less trappings that I believe could kill a lesser man.

I appreciated those motherfuckers like you wouldn’t believe. Every tired smile, and half assed attempt at heavy metal dancing. In fact, every movement they made that went towards the overall mission of my team. By the 13th hour, I would have taken a non-lethal bullet for those people.

In the same way you feel like your classmates are family after a school camp, or you miss your uni peers after a particularly gruelling group assignment that stretches beyond the 9 hour mark – they have seen you at your worst. Your dumbest, your ugliest, your angriest. They have also seen you at your best – when you have no juice left in your system, no energy to spare, no marrow in your bones (probably) and you can keep going.

So that was my weekend.

I came out the other side, not sure of what day it was. I thought back to when I started my shift, convinced that everything that had happened in those naive first few hours was in fact a week ago.  I write a lot of posts about how things change me – books – cocktails – a particular brutal hangover. This is different. I came out of the shower that evening morning feeling like ill sleep hereI was exiting the womb. How’s that for your Freud? I was weak, I hurt, I didn’t know what I was anymore, I didn’t have a damn thought in my brain. I was brand new. I mean I thought so, until I landed on my bed in a clumsy new born sort of way and dreamt of work.

Jesus H. Christ (What is jesus’s middle name?) I finished work and now when I think I’m able to spend some final moments of recovering before I have to get up in <check watch> two hours –and I’m working in my sleep. It’s just not right. I watched a video on the internet machine last night – to stop thinking about work before I went to bed (didn’t help) and VSauce semi explained this awful phenomenon. ‘Why do we dream?’ informed me of a theory to my work-dreams.  VSauce man tells me that when we learn a new skill (which I constantly am at my place of work) or face new fears (customers are actually an old fear) our brains repeat the same processes when we were learning the skill and the side effect of this brain activity is passed off as a dream. Another theory is that our fears in the waking world are replayed in dream form so that we are more adept at handling them when confronted in the real world.

What an excellent way to look at it. I would have said something like: I dream of work because I forget there was a human living under my job title.

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