The Envelopes, Please

John: I’m in a mail room and I’m opening an 8 x 10 inch manila envelope. As I tear it open, someone else is starting to open another manila envelope, and then a third person says, “Do you know if the manila envelope that the other person is opening is wider and also taller than the one you have?”

I say, “Well, we don’t know. It hasn’t been torn open yet. When it’s torn open, it might shrink. Then when we put them side by side, we will know.”

Somehow or other this exchange sets off the imagination where I, in the mail room, just start picking up other envelopes and tearing them open. These envelopes aren’t addressed to me, yet that doesn’t stop me. I take the contents out, which means that having opened them, I now have to deal with what’s inside.

Without even looking, though, I know what’s inside each envelope. I feel lucky that each item only requires some sort of confirmation. In other words, there’s not a lot of complexity involved, so I think I’m okay with handling all these envelopes and their contents.

Then I realize that there are others sitting around that could have seen me doing this and figured out that I was messing with other people’s mail. I suddenly feel the need to get out of there, and away from the area, because any one of them could follow me and turn me in.

So I’m carrying the contents of the envelopes in my hand, but I soon realize that no one is following me. Or if they were, I’ve shaken them all, because everyone around me now is different. Now I can deal with whatever it is that I’m holding in my hand.

I couldn’t quite ever figure out if the envelope I had was as big as the other ones because it seemed that as I tore open the wider envelopes, rationally it seemed they would also be taller, but I couldn’t ever confirm that because I kept pulling the contents out and then they all seemed the same size.

Even though the contents of these envelopes belonged to other people, they just required their signature as a confirmation. I guess I was going to act like I could do that for them. Well, you don’t want anyone to see you if you do something strange like that. It’s kind of absurd, and it’s really intrusive.

The way the dream was going, it was depicting the particulars of something, yet looking at it from the perspective of the overall consequence. I suddenly feel a great relief when I look around and feel that no one is going to hold me accountable.

But as soon as I experience that feeling of relief, I walk through the doors to a library and someone there stops me.

It’s a unique, inner library. It’s a library that has to make sure that you don’t have, and you’re not carrying in, anything that doesn’t belong to you. They are reaching out and, before I can even blink, I hand them what I have in my hand.

What was I going to do, run or something? No, I just hand everything to them. As I do that I shudder inside thinking about the consequences. Now everything has been exposed – it’s all out in the open.

Everything is always seen. You don’t get away with anything.

I wake up. I force myself to wake up because I don’t know what’s going to happen to me as a consequence of all this.

I mean, how can I possibly explain? I can’t. I’ve obviously done something very wrong, if looked at in a simplistic way. What I’ve done is really bad.

What will be the ramifications of these actions? Tomorrow we will find out!

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