Office Dream

You know that dream where all of the sudden you are naked at work, and everyone is staring at you? That dream where, one moment you are in your pressed khakis and your sunset-pink button down, standing in front of the big dry-erase board trying to explain to your colleagues some pulse-width correction scheme, and then the next moment you are completely unclothed, chest hair undulating with the breeze from the ceiling fan, naughty bits hung akimbo, your heart's quickening beats visible for all in the conference room to see. That dream where you slowly turn back to your presentation, intensely aware that your pale buttocks are surveying the room, and that every freckle, every hair, every imperfect inch of your skin is screaming out to your audience for attention. That dream where you can feel the heat of those dozens of eyeballs burning through your body, hungrily devouring your every movement, lapping at the lines and angles of your exposed flesh as you shift positions and try to concentrate on explaining your thoughts on time-gain control and multi-trigger levels.

Do you know this dream that I speak of? Well, today I plan to live the dream.