My dreams are officially turning into a Netflix mini-series

My dreams are officially turning into a Netflix mini-series.

And not the feel-good kind with scenic montages and inspirational voiceovers.

We’re talking full-blown corporate dramedy, three-act structure, multiple villains, and a coffee budget no one approved.

Last night’s dream?

Absolute chaos.

It starts in a conference room the size of a stadium. I’m wearing a blazer that doesn’t fit and holding a PowerPoint remote that somehow controls the weather. There’s a whiteboard behind me with the words “Synergy is the New Faith” written in Comic Sans.

Suddenly, the CEO floats in. Floats.

He’s wearing a robe made of LinkedIn endorsements and asks me, “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Before I can answer, the lights flicker and the CFO shapeshifts into a raccoon wearing glasses and a name tag that says Brad – Director of Fiscal Vibes.

I panic, obviously, but Brad tells me to relax and hands me a Starbucks cup filled with… my student loan balance.

Cut to scene two: I’m on stage at an all-hands meeting being forced to sing my résumé like it’s karaoke night at a WeWork. The mic is glitching, and every time I try to say “cross-functional collaboration,” it auto-tunes into “Can’t Stop Believin’.”

People are clapping. Karen from HR is filming me. Chad from Sales keeps shouting, “You’re crushing it!” while updating his fantasy pickleball bracket.

And then… the fire alarm goes off.

Except it’s not a fire alarm—it’s the sound of eight recruiters messaging me at once saying,

“We’d love to chat about a role that aligns with your background!”

Spoiler: It does not.

Scene three: I’m suddenly in an escape room made entirely of Zoom windows. Every time I click “Join,” I’m thrown into another panel interview with six strangers who all speak in vague buzzwords.

“Tell us about a time you optimized value through ideation in a lean ecosystem.”

I say, “Once I made a spreadsheet that didn’t crash.”

They nod. Dramatically.

Then the walls start closing in. Not fast. Just emotionally.

Brad the raccoon climbs onto my shoulder and whispers,

“You’re overqualified for the vibes.”

Final scene: I’m outside, finally free. The sun is shining. A mysterious figure approaches—it’s God, dressed like a recruiter, holding a clipboard.

He looks at me and says,

“We’re moving in a different direction.”

I wake up sweating, holding my laptop, and whispering,

“Did I just get ghosted by the divine?”

Anyway. I don’t know what’s in my cereal lately, but my subconscious needs a PTO day.

Or at least a break from unpaid dream internships.