Late for Work in the Endless Corridor with Portholes

Late for Work in the Endless Corridor with Portholes

I dreamed I was late for work and the subway was this endless corridor with tiny portholes instead of ads. Stars outside, like we were between stops in deep space. I kept checking my phone for the quarterly meeting invite. My manager was by the doors looking like himself but also like some fleet officer I half-recognized from a show. I couldn’t find my badge. The hallway just kept repeating the same vending machine. An old classmate was in a jump seat eating a bagel and asked if I was going to the briefing on Deck C, which was somehow our usual conference room. I had pajama pants under my coat and felt stupid. Then I remembered I’d left my keys in the airlock, which was just our apartment door. Mostly I was anxious we’d miss the jump and I’d be unprepared.