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A Reoccuring Dream

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I look up, seeing a man before who I both recognize and have never seen before, excluding our encounter at the door. He seems to flinch in a similar way to my own, avoiding my eyes and glancing down, both startled and confused. I see recognition in his eyes, but it must be a trick of the light. How could he have the same feeling as me, when I can’t even explain my own emotion. Of course, I decide, he must just look similar, or maybe I saw something about him on the website when I applied, or when I came in for my interview. That would explain it perfectly.


I continue to watch him as he recovers from the shock and reverts his composure. He doesn’t seem to want to display his confusion to the rest of the world, as if they would take it and turn it against him in some way. I can relate to that, in some way, not wanting others to see my weakness. My strategy, however, is to simply not do anything that others could notice and remark upon.


Finally, he meets my eyes. I feel even more like I’ve seen him before, but do not react on that feeling. He opens his mouth slowly to speak, and he eventually starts talking.


“So, are you the new guy here?” he asks me.


“Yes, I am,” I respond. “And I believe that you are the other lawyer who works here?”


“That would be me. Alexander Hamilton, pleased to make your acquaintance.”


“Aaron Burr.”


I hold out my hand to shake his, but he looks at me a little strangely. I see a little amusement in his eyes before he sticks out his own hand to shake mine. Hmph, apparently doesn’t appreciate too many formalities.



He wanted to shake my hand. Not especially the way I’d greet a new friend. Okay, okay, he’s my coworker, but still. Can’t we, like, I don’t know, just say hi and be done with it? Why do we need to pretend like we are in such a serious new situation? I don’t want people to think that I am too boring, but I don’t think that I could be more boring than this guy.


My thoughts shift back to the dream. He didn’t seem to react to seeing me, or not that much. I did catch hesitation as he looked at me first. Of course, would be expected, this all being in my head and all… right?


Burr looks at me, almost staring, in confusion. His gaze flickers from our hands to my face. Oh. Right. I handshake requires shaking. Oops, it seems I got a little lost my thoughts again. I do this way too much for my own good. I think about my work and writing papers and stuff like that, and then I notice that I am supposed to be engaging in a social conversation with someone else.


Once, I was meeting this woman, Eliza. She seemed nice and all, but a little helpless. She didn’t seem to have very high self-esteem, and if I pointed out a flaw, even just jokingly, she would panic and start apologizing profusely. It didn’t really work out.


Anyway, I was meeting her for dinner. We were in this restaurant and she was telling me about her sister Peggy Schuyler, something about her being underrated and how others should acknowledge her kindness, wit, and dedication to her family. Earlier, I had seen a video online about how in some places, people are allowed to leave pets outside in the cold. I was planning to write a long paper about the injustice and cruelty of it while Eliza was talking, I was totally lost in my thoughts. When she realized I wasn’t paying attention, she got pretty upset. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t listening to her, but still…


Oh, shit. I did it again. My hand is still in Burr’s. I think I have been standing here like this for about a minute ago.


“...Sorry,” I say. “I get kinda lost in thought sometimes.”



That. Was. So. Awkward. He just… stood there, his hand strongly gripping mine, not letting go, while his gaze went distant. He came back to the present, noticing what he’d done, but drifted away once more, leaving me standing there. He smiles sheepishly at me as if to apologize again. Then, his grip finally loosens, and I pull my hand away as fast as I can.


“So… I suppose I should show you around the office,” Hamilton offers, trying to recover from what he’d just done.


“Yes, that seems like something that would help me in the future,” I respond, also ignoring what just happened.


“Okay. So. Here is the front desk, obviously.” He points to the desk and then starts walking toward the back. “This is the room where it happens.” He is gesturing to a room with a closed door.


“Um. The room where what happens, exactly?” I ask, confused and slightly disgusted.


“You know, it’s the room where I do my lawyer-ey stuff,” he explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.


“Oh. Okay.” I breathe a sigh of relief.


“Well, what did you think I meant?”


“I thought it was, well, nevermind. You just seemed like the kind of person to refer to that kind of thing as ‘the room where it happens.’ It was quite vague, as well.”


“Oh. OH. OH. I see. No, that isn’t what I meant. Although maybe it will become the room where it happens,” he jokes, smirking.


“Just get over it already. Come on, continue the tour or whatever you were doing.” I am already over this guy.


“I will gladly cum on. Wink wink.”


Oh. My. God. Will this guy just shut up and move on? How does a man so immature have a job like this? He can’t act like this with his clients, can he? Why is he doing this to me?



This is hilarious. I am sure I will enjoy working with this guy. He hates me already, I can tell. He gets so irritated, I love teasing him. Hopefully, he doesn’t leave before I can do this again.


“Come- I mean, Let’s go, continue the tour,” he corrects, carefully trying to avoid my remarks. No such luck. This is too funny.


“I’m cumming, don’t worry. Are you gonna cum, too?” I love this guy. Not like that of course, but, like, you know.


Burr sighs in disappointment. He probably is wondering what working with me will be like.



How will I make it through a day working with him?