THROUGH THE WORMHOLE

“Have you been out in the sun?” he asked. “How have you got a sun tan?”

Sometimes I wonder whether work exists in the same universe as everywhere else. The revolving door might just as well be a wormhole, through which texts and emails and data can flow, but only staff can actually travel. And on the other side of that Einstein-Rosen bridge? The palest man in the real world suddenly has a sun tan in the middle of winter.

I don’t of course. What’s happening is that my face is once again falling apart, due to poor diet, lack of sleep, stress, and huge changes in temperature between indoors and out. It looks like sun burn, especially combined with the reddened nose and cheeks of a classic winter’s day. But it’s not.

Stress eh. I’ve not exactly got anything at all to be stressed about. Whatever it is, it’s deeper than I know.

Meanwhile, the weird dreams continue. I reluctantly pranked someone’s parents by dressing up as a clown and hiding in a cupboard. In the dream, a real friend of mine persuaded me that they would find it hilarious, and I went along with it. They didn’t. I had to walk home in the rain with soggy red shoes on.

Then there was the quiz show where I knew the answers but my mouth was taped up. Plus the now recurring dream I have, where my phone is playing music and I simply can’t turn it off. In the latest instalment I dunked it underwater. It just sounded exactly the same. Previously I’ve taken it to pieces, stamped on it, smashed it with a screwdriver, turned it off (including off-off) and thrown it out of the window. On it goes. Infuriating.

Anyway.

“No I’ve just been out in the cold,” I said, and we moved the conversation on. I should do better at looking after myself, I thought. Low stress, good diet, dreamless sleep, proper routine: these are all achievable goals in this reality, I would have thought.

I do however, have the sneaking suspicion that rolling in and out through the space-time-continuum every day to work and back might not be helping.