The Dream Offer (That Turned Into a Nightmare)

So the other night, I had the dream.

You know the one.

I’m sitting in a glass-walled office with a skyline view. The kind of place where everyone has standing desks, emotional support succulents, and company hoodies that actually fit. There’s a glowing MacBook in front of me, and next to it—a contract.

An offer letter.

Six glorious pages.

Salary, benefits, stock options, a PTO policy that didn’t feel like a threat.

There was even a line that said, “We believe in work-life balance.”

In the dream, I’m calm. Confident. Like I didn’t cry over a rejected job portal password two days ago.

The recruiter is smiling.

The hiring manager is nodding.

They say things like, “We’re so lucky to have found you,” and “We just knew.”

There’s even a balloon in the corner.

Not for anyone else—for me.

I lift the pen.

I’m about to sign.

My hand touches the paper…

And then—

I wake up.

No job.

No offer.

Just my cracked phone screen glowing at 3:41 a.m., asking me if I want to update iOS. (No. I want a paycheck.)

Now here’s the kicker:

It wasn’t just a dream. I had been in final rounds with a real company.

Five interviews.

One panel.

Three “just one more quick chats.”

A 90-minute “culture fit” conversation where I pretended I had hobbies and didn’t check my email 800 times a day.

They told me, “We’re finalizing things. Expect an offer this week.”

That was 11 days ago.

Since then?

Silence.

Like I imagined the whole thing.

Like the interview process was a fever dream powered by LinkedIn and delusion.

I emailed to follow up.

No response.

I DM’d the recruiter.

Left on read.

I even started questioning my memory.

Did I dream the entire process?

Did I hallucinate the interview where the CFO said, “I love your energy”?

Was the balloon real?

At this point, I don’t know if I need a new job or a wellness retreat in the mountains with no Wi-Fi and someone to gently tell me I still have value.

I tell myself it’s fine.

Ghosting is normal now, right?

It’s part of the process.

Like rejection. Or existential dread.

But the truth is?

It hurts.

Even when you expect it.

Even when you try to play it cool.

Even when you knew better.

Because it wasn’t just a job.

It was a moment where, for a second, it felt like things were turning around.

Like you could finally exhale.

And now you’re stuck rereading old emails like love letters from someone who left you on “seen.”

So yeah, I had the dream.

I almost signed.

Almost celebrated.

Almost felt safe again.

But for now, I’ll settle for coffee, resilience, and a new password for yet another application portal.

And maybe tonight, I’ll dream again.

And this time?

I’ll click “Decline.”

Just to feel something.