Dreams of a night on the TRIM

Disclaimer:People's dreams are often not very interesting to anyone but them. But this was so weird I had to write it down. I don't know what it means, other than to highlight the fact that I'm a little deranged. All companies and people in this dream are actually me, and almost definitely wouldn't behave in such a fashion in real life. No correspondence will be entered into.

Shimmery Dissolve in

In my dream, software was alcohol . Everybody was drunk all the time, because of the amount of software in the work place. Big companies like Microsoft and Oracle were in the business of getting people shitfaced at big conventions, where they'd teach you about the alcohol molecule and how they'd added a new hydroxide molecule. Microsoft called this directDrink. IBM had a reputation for taking out the CEOs of large enterprises and getting them all really drunk, thus mandating more IBM liquor (which was blue) be bought and drunk by millions of government employees around the world every day.

I worked for TOWER, which was exactly the same, except that TRIM was a very strange tasting brown liquid that got you really pissed, really efficiently. It was an acquired taste. People at work would jokingly refer to it as "A night on the TRIM". After one night on the TRIM, I remember getting really drunk with our CEO. At some point, I had to leave, and the boss said he'd look after my watch. He gave me a ticket with "The Tabstern Tavern "written on it, with a number, For some reason I knew that I could pick it up there once I was sober.

I went home, and we were renting a friends house while they renovated ours. Ali was all worried that they'd decorate it in a disgusting way. When I woke up, I went to the Tabstern Tavern, which was a very seedy club where the staff all wore singlets. The guy behind the bar looked like this guy. I gave him my ticket and he said:"Oh - okay- your boss dropped this off. Come this way." I went behind the bar and around the corner to a place where all this lost property was laid out on a table. My watch was there with a ticket matching my number. I picked it up. As I did, I noticed Martin's pants and shirt, neatly folded, with a ticket on them. Okay, I thought, that's weird. Maybe I should pick those up while I'm here. I imagined myself handing the boss his pants, and decided maybe I should leave them there.

I was at work getting in trouble. Apparently the preliminary tests for my new project weren't going so well. Turns out that my project was to take the TRIM alcohol and make it attractive and palatable to teenagers and modern people by mixing it with stuff and selling it in a fancy colored bottle. It was the same alcohol - it just looked much nicer and had a spiffy marketing campaign, The team had come up with three variants, Trim with Egg and Orange juice, TRIM with lemon, lime and glycerin and TRIM with some chunky fluffy looking thing that looked a lot like vomit. Straughan had each one of them lined up on is desk in a tall glass with a cocktail umbrella, and was shaking his head at me, while he went over the advertising campaign storyboards.
"The market isn't going to go for this ready-to-drink shit. They need to understand the real value proposition" (swill from the TRIM bottle, which looked like a Grant's whiskey bottle with the Context logo on it.)

I Woke up.