I once had a dream where there were stacks and stacks of paper on racks upon racks in this huge warehouse. It was full of paper, yet it was an expanse of void. Where was all that paper destined to go? Would that paper become important contracts representing a security policy, designed to provide financial assistance to some family if their house burned down, or maybe replace their car in an accident? Would that paper end up on the floor of the legislature to land on the desk of the Governor who would sign it and then become the "letter of the law?" Or would it fill the front of the refrigerator as children's art?
The blankness of the paper saddened me. Then I realized, I was at work.
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