I have not wirtten many dream poems, but I found this in my notepad on my phone from a couple years ago. Editied it into a poem. The title was accurate from that time period, (when I got canned) but not sure it fits the poem. Is this too simple of a dream poem? I know it’s a bit of a conflict here since you are the guest editor of dream poems ;-) (I found other dream notes in my note pad as well..more to write and ponder)

Every Morning I Wake from Bad Dreams

I’ve started a new job, one I don’t want.

I work in a big lobby at a desk

next to two other women who welcome me.

They don’t tell me what the job is,

I try to figure it out.

I look for training materials, organize my desk.

They are counting coins at their desks

but I don’t know what for, maybe an office pool.

There are dead flowers in a vase on my desk,

I toss them but drop petals on the rug of the lobby,

a young man vacuums up the petals.

I feel bad I made a mess, pushing a pile of petals together,

pick up what I can.

Suddenly I notice it’s 5:30 pm

no one is there, I leave,

can’t find my car going through several parking lots.

I wake, hot and miserable.