I was out on a plaza. Foot traffic ebbed and lifted around me. Nuances of a mid-afternoon carried late spring tones. This was no place known in RL.

Though it was outside, long white marble counters offered multi-media positions. One could step up and use a computer, television, or other digital device.

It seemed like I was on a break and just meandering. A famous man approached me. Tall, white, with curly hair, he wore a black suit of a white shirt. “I want hire you,” he said, “and mentor your development.”

In a dream epiphany, I knew that’s why I was on that plaza. Thanking him for the opportunity, I asked for time to think about it. He was amenable. Handing me a zip drive, he suggested I look at the files on it for a better idea of what he’s looking for and prepare a resume to give him. I agreed.

I headed to a computer station to explore the drive. While there, a middle-aged short and slender swarthy woman with tumbling curly hair approached and basically gave me the same pitch. I asked for time to think about it. She was a little disappointed that I didn’t immediately accept and made a pitch. She told me that letting her mentor me would open doorways for me.

I was flattered but adamant. I needed time to think about it and would not be rushed. She said there was a file on the disk which was a story and asked me to rewrite it so she would have more insight into my current levels.

The woman left and my wife joined me. I told her all that happened and showed her the discs. We began looking at the contents together. Days passed in a flicker of light. The second potential mentor drifted past, eyeing me, and trying to see what I was doing. I knew that she’d wanted and expected a piece of writing that first night, but I said nothing to her.

My wife drifted away. The female mentor stepped over and asked me who my wife was. The impression struck that she didn’t know who my wife was, so I explained. The mentor responded, “She’s not included in this.”

I returned to the disk and resumed writing. The female mentor continued circling. Reminded me of birds in orbit over a dead thing. Then the male mentor returned and said, “Good job.”

The end