Dreams Gone Wild

You ever have one of those dreams that feels so real, you wake up clutching your blanket like it’s a résumé and immediately start questioning your life choices?

Yeah. Last night was that dream.

It started normal enough—me, minding my business, sitting on a cloud (because dream physics), sipping what I assume was holy espresso, when suddenly God walks in.

He’s wearing joggers, Crocs, and a hoodie that says “Jeremiah 29:11—but make it fashion.”

He gives me a look like, “You good?” I shrug and say, “Just waiting on a job offer.”

He nods. “Same.”

Then, out of literal nowhere, Steve Apple descends from the sky in a forklift with LED underglow and a Bluetooth speaker blasting elevator jazz. He’s wearing a cape made of rejection emails and sunglasses that definitely came free with a leadership course.

God sighs. “Not again.”

Steve rolls up like,

“Alex. I built Amazon. I’ve returned to make you CEO of a new startup: FaithTok—where scripture meets crypto. We’re going to baptize the blockchain.”

Before I can process that spiritual nonsense, a raccoon wearing a headset scurries in and starts projecting pie charts onto a burning bush. He’s apparently the “VP of Operations and Trash Collection.” His name? Brad.

Kayla the Recruiter floats in on a cloud of passive-aggressive LinkedIn posts, sipping iced coffee and swiping through résumés like she’s on Tinder for talent.

She looks at me and says,

“We were super impressed with your experience… but we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.”

I blink. “But I didn’t even apply yet.”

She smiles. “Exactly. Proactivity is key.”

That’s when Karen shows up, descending from heaven’s HR department holding a clipboard and a stack of policy violations. Her hair is immaculate. Her tone is deadly.

“Before you go any further,” she says, “I just want to remind you not to talk about this on LinkedIn.”

I turn to God. “This feels like a trap.”

He sips His espresso. “Free will, my child.”

Steve jumps in. “You’re hired. But first you need to complete your onboarding.”

Me: “What’s that involve?”

Steve: “Spelling your name backwards, submitting your bank routing number, and mailing in your aura scan. Also, $79 for your divine synergy badge.”

Kayla: “You can Venmo me.”

Karen: “Or pay in emotional labor.”

The raccoon squeaks in agreement and hands me a company hoodie that just says “We’re All Just Applicants Here.”

At this point, the clouds part and a single spotlight shines down.

God stands up and says:

“You’re not dreaming, Alex. You’re in the in-between—between rejection and redirection. Between frustration and faith. Between Kayla ghosting you and your next open door.”

Steve claps slowly.

Brad the raccoon hands me a tiny espresso.

Karen mutters something about compliance.

Then I wake up.

Sweating.

Heart racing.

Still unemployed.

But oddly inspired.

So I got up, made some real coffee, and updated my résumé to include:

“Had a dream with God, Steve Apple, a raccoon VP, Kayla the recruiter, and Karen from HR. Survived. Spiritually promoted.”

LinkedIn in 2025, baby.

Where even your dreams come with interviews, onboarding fees, and a performance review from a raccoon.