This one started in a setting that doesn't exist. There were things that I knew about myself but wasn't thinking of, in the same way that you know that you're living where you live in part because you paid the rent or mortgage on the most recent due date with money earned at the job that you do, none of which are you thinking about while you sit and eat breakfast in the morning. It doesn't mean you don't know it. It's just information you have, not information that's on your mind.
That is how I knew in this dream that I'd finished writing a novella, and published it online. I had expected somewhere between total failure, and moderate success that would boost my income by a few bucks a month. Instead, the novella went "viral." The main character was a retail worker who is abused by her boss, and an unexpected number of people identified with her. Fortunately, this had not impacted my family's privacy, as I had published under a pen name. The only link to myself was involved with getting paid, and the public couldn't see that.
I made more money from the book than I would in a year at work (which isn't all that much, but it was enough). We used the bulk of the money to put a down payment on a house in the town where my husband's side of the family lives, and he began working nearby while I began writing a (much requested) sequel. These are things I knew, but was not pondering, when the dream began.
I am eating breakfast at the computer and typing a chapter from my finished outline. It is early for most people. My son is not up yet for school, but my husband is all ready at work.. I'm focusing this chapter on showing the effects of stress on the character's health, and I'm finding that my personal experience makes it both difficult and easy to write about this. I know all too well what the character is suffering, so it's like I have a script, but expressing it makes me think back to what I went through and brings back the emotional baggage from that experience. Even though I had some success in escaping the situation, I'm still angry that it happened. She had no right to do that to me. Worse, I feel guilty for leaving the others behind. I know her personality. Once I was gone, she would have turned her bullying to another employee and begun to do the same to that person.
I have to fight to keep focused on this story, in which the character did not write anything and has not escaped the situation. At the end of the first novella, she won a settlement from the company, but not enough to get out. She is still stuck with the abusive boss, still trying to hang on to her job so that she doesn't lose her home, and still dealing with harassment on one end, and her body falling apart at the other.
I'm preoccupied with this until it's time to get my son out of bed. I snuggle him awake, watch him rub the sleep out of his eyes, and herd him off to the bathroom. We go through the process of getting ready for school - I make breakfast while he gets dressed, and so on. We eat together and find something humorous to watch on TV. I'm a huge believer in a daily dose of humor. I am convinced that it has positive effects on one's physical health.
After that, we head to the car and I drive him to school, drop him off, and head out to run some errands. It's late morning when I return home with some groceries and some kitchen stuff. The mail has arrived. I grab it on my way in, toss it onto the table, then put everything away. I notice that there is a hand-addressed letter for me. Well, half hand-addressed. My address is hand written. The sender's address is typed.
It's from a lawyer's office.
I open the envelope. Inside is a notice that my former boss has read my novella and seen similarities between what I've written and what the letter calls "false allegations" brought against her in my claim with the labor board following my report to OSHA. My boss is claiming that she inspired the boss character in my novella, and feels that she is entitled to 75% of the profits. The letter is an offer to settle for 50%.
I'm momentarily angry. She has no right to do this. I didn't write about her. I wrote about me. The boss in the store isn't anything like her. The abuse is much more blatant and easy to report, not at all like what happened to me. The boss in the story I wrote is abusive because she can't feel important and valued unless she makes her subordinates feel unimportant and devalued. Her methods involve abuse in front of customers who end up complaining to corporate. She gets busted because her victim is able to amass a great deal of evidence. My boss was angry that I filed a complaint with OSHA. She saw that as a challenge to her authority, and her retaliation was a form of territorial marking, so to speak. The company was also involved in the retaliation, unlike in the story, and the case was still in appeals.
The physical characteristics don't match, either, with the exception that both characters are female. I wanted the boss in the story to look intimidating, so I made her tall and heavy. My boss was short and thin. I made the boss in the story an attractive blond. My boss was a brunette who would have been pretty if she hadn't had such a mean expression on her face, but she did, and she wasn't.
None of the incidents that happened to me were included in the story. I made up incidents for my characters, things that were much more cut-and-dried than my experience, so that I would not have to spend too much effort detailing the reasons why what the boss was doing was abuse. I wanted the incidents described to be things that the reader would look at and immediately mentally categorize as abuse.
After the initial moment of outrage, something else clicks with me. By sending me this notice, my boss is admitting that her behavior towards me at work was abusive. She is admitting guilt! Not only that, but continuing to pursue me after the fact is an act of further harassment. I can use this letter as evidence in my case against the company. A feeling of triumph rises in my chest, and I quickly begin thinking about the composition of a reply.
Instead, I call a local attorney for advice. I am told to come into the office, that he wants to handle the case. I am asked for the link to the novella I tell him which parts detail the abuse, and make an appointment with him for later in the day. I give him the link over the phone. I start supper in my crock pot, then head out to the office. I set an alarm on my phone to go pick up my son at school.
In the office, the attorney and I discuss the letter and the novella. We come to the conclusion that my boss is using her allegation as a means to continue attempting to dominate and intimidate me, and also as a cheap and easy way to get some extra cash. I wonder how she got my new address, and how she had connected me with the novella. I had not given my new address to the company, and had not left a forwarding address with the post office. I hadn't publicly associated myself with the novella or the site on which it was published. She would have had to either assume it was me or get that information from the entity which paid me, and she would have had to do some searching to track me down at my new address.
The lawyer wants to reply wit a letter stating that many people suffer abuse at work, and that many authors have written about abusive bosses. The letter would cite the disclaimer at the beginning of the novel, stating that the characters were fictional. It would also cite several popular movies from the last few decades of the 20th century some more recent ones, including the movie Horrible Bosses. We would point out that the novel was published under a pen name, with nothing to indicate to my boss that the author was me. She would have had to to come to that conclusion on her own. We would further state that my boss's allegation was unclear, and that we needed her to detail the abuses that she committed against me at my workplace in order to determine any similarities.
The lawyer says that our letter would put the boss in an uncomfortable position. Either she would have to state that there was no abuse, thereby totally undermining her case, or she would have to admit guilt, creating an opening by which I could sue her for stalking and further harassing me. He says that if she didn't drop this, we will connect this current harassment with the harassment in the workplace, and argue that she is using threat of legal action as a bridge to allow her to intimidate and harass an abuse victim who has moved out of her reach.
There ill be a legal battle in which I would probably just break even after expenses, but which should result in an order by a judge for my boss to stop harassing me. We would be able to keep my identity from being revealed to the public, so my family would continue to have normal privacy. At worst, I'd have to deal with this for a year. At best, the case would make the news and I'd get more readers out of it. If I don't fight, she might be able to actually win the right to part of my earnings from the novella, and I won't be allowed to write any more about the characters in it. My identity would be made public, and the novella would have to be taken down. I'd lose all future income from it.
I decide to fight. We work on composing the letter, and end up with one that we both really like. In it, we point out the things we'd discussed, along with the fact that in attacking my work, my boss is attempting to abridge my right to free speech. That bit is a long shot, because the constitution only bars the government from blocking free speech, but since she is attempting to use the legal system as a tool in the attempt, we feel the point should be included. As we finish going over and approving the text, my alarm goes off. I tell the lawyer that I need to leave in the next ten minutes to get my son at school.
We finish our business quickly. He sends me off with a card and the assurance that he'll fight tooth and nail for my case. I feel pretty good about things as I walk out the door.
I arrive at the school a few minutes early, park my car, and wait for my son to come out. While I am waiting, a man and a women in suits go into the school. Just before the last bell, they come out with my son. He looks really upset.
I get out of the car and run up to them, demanding to know what they are doing. They identify themselves as workers from Child Protective Services, and tell me that I have been accused of violent abuse. My son says, "I told you, whoever said that is lying. My mom's a good mom! She doesn't do anything bad to me. You guys are wrong!"
I ask where the allegation came from, and they say it is anonymous, and even if it wasn't they can't tell me without a court order. I point out that they cannot take my son without any a court order, either. They say if they can, and if I fight, it will "look bad" in my paperwork. I tell my son he doesn't have to go with them, and to get into the car. I say, "You guys are seriously not blind enough to miss the complete lack of injuries, are you?" The lady tells me that the anonymous caller had said that all of the injuries were internal. They are going to subject him to medical testing until they find something. When my son tries to walk away from them, each of them grabs one of his arms to hold him in place.
I tell them I'll press assault charges against both of them if they don't get their hands off of him right now. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911. A dispatcher answers immediately and asks what my emergency is. The man in the suit says, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." At the same time, my son yells "Help! I'm being kidnapped! Get these people away from me!" and begins struggling to pull out of their grasp. They struggle with him, and the man wrenches his arm behind his back. I can see pain on my son's face, and he yells, "Ow!" repeatedly.
With the hand not holding the phone, I slug the man in the nose. Blood shoots out and he screams. He lets go of my son's arm and puts his hands over his nose. My son shoves the woman off of him. I shout into the phone to the dispatcher that two people posing as CPS workers are trying to kidnap my son, that they have not shown us any identification or paperwork, that they are using force, and that we are trying to fight them off right now.
I shout at my son to run back into the school. He backes away from the woman, but lookes torn. He doesn't run. The man grabs at my phone with one bloody hand, and I kick him in the knee, hard. I hear a crunch, and he screams and goes down on his butt. The woman turns to see what is going on, and I again yell for my son to run. I hear the dispatcher tell me the police are coming, and to stay where I am. The woman pulls something out of her purse. I order my son to get inside, and he finally goes. I hear the doors lock behind him. Inside, I can see the secretary watching the scene with wide eyes. My son goes right to her desk, holds his hand out, and speaks. She gives him the phone, and he begins dialing.
The woman hits me, and I feel every muscle in my body tense up as if grabbed by invisible hands. I fall to the ground. I don't lose my grip on the phone, but I can't move. I can see sparks coming from her hand. She goes over and begins pounding on the locked door. Inside I see my son's panicked face as he speaks into the phone.
I tell the dispatcher that I've been tased by the woman while defending my son from the man. She asks if further assault is taking place, and I tell her about the woman pounding on the glass. She is trying to get into the school. The man has his phone out and is calling someone. I hear him say something about "refusing to surrender the child" and I tell that to the dispatcher. I state again that these people have shown me neither credentials nor paperwork, just grabbed and tried to take my son. I have no reason to trust them with my child. The dispatcher reassures me that until I am given those things, I do not have to surrender my son to strangers.
I put my phone on speaker so she can hear the rest of his phone call. He is asking if my resistance can be included in the case, and stating that his knee is broken. I tell the dispatcher how that happened, including how the man had reached to take away my phone. I state that I want to press assault charges against both of them for grabbing and trying to take my son.
Before the police arrive, my brother-in-law approaches. Looking inside, I see relief on my son's face and realize that's who he had called. I am beginning to regain control over my muscles, and I struggle to sit up. My BIL kneels down and helps me. I feel weak and wobbly, but can stay on my feet. Both of the people in suits give me surprised looks. I say, "I've been electrocuted before. That wasn't so bad." The woman turns away from the door and says, "Oh, really? We'll see about that." I see her flip a switch on her taser. It looks like she is turning up the juice. I tell my BIL, "Now is your chance. Go into the school. Take my son out another door, put him into your car, and take him to your house."
He starts to argue, and I tell him, "I can handle this. The police are on their way to help me. Just get him out of here." He nods, and goes inside the school as the woman, now angry, comes after me with the taser. I dodge her thrust and grab her arm. I lean back and pull, swinging her around, and then let go and send her stumbling away behind me. It is hard to regain my balance. My muscles still aren't obeying my brain very well. I feel kind of drunk, except without the buzz.
The woman falls and accidentally tases herself. The effect is that her hand clamps down on the button, and she keeps the taser on, and in contact with herself. I have to grab her arm and break the connection. I shake the taser out of her hand. It falls, hit the curb, and breaks. At the same time, I feel a jolt travel through me as I touch her. I fall to the sidewalk at the same time as the taser, and once again can't move. This time, I also can't hold on to my phone. Miraculously, it doesn't hang up or break. The dispatcher is asking what is going on. I tell her what happened. As I am speaking, I hear sirens. I say, "I think the cops are here." I see my BIL with my son in his car, parked several cars away in the driveway. He wis talking on his phone.
All at once, I am glad he is still there. It occurs to me that he couldn't just leave because a crime was in progress and he and my son are witnesses. Not only that, they're MY witnesses. They have to report to the police what they've seen, or it's me against two.
I know that somehow, this is connected to my boss. I make a mental note to call the lawyer handling the frivolous lawsuit and see if we can get either her phone records, or the phone records from CPS. I figure we'd be at least able to prove that a call was made either from her cell or house phone to the CPS hotline.
The sirens get really close, and I hear footsteps and chatter. The officers are surprised to approach a scene in which all the combatants are down, and no one is left standing. I shout at the phone that they are here, and need to know that I am the woman with the long hair, not the one in the suit. An officer approaches me and kneels down. I say, "I've been tased twice, but I'm ok. I just can't move. We're all a little injured."
The officer says that an ambulance is coming, and to just stay calm. I tell him that my son and I have been assaulted by the two people in suits, who have shown no identification or paperwork, but just tried to take him with them without offering any reason why. I say that they twisted my son's arm and tased me twice, and I want to press charges. The officer assures me that there will be paperwork for me to fill out related to charges, but first they need to see to everyone's physical well-being. I can hear another officer telling someone to stay still and not try to move, that help is coming.
I woke not feeling entirely comfortable with the situation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Were the officers going to arrest the kidnappers, or were they going to side with them because they were CPS agents? I know that they cannot legally take a child without either parental consent (which I didn't give) or a judge's order (which they didn't have) but I also know that the agency has a habit of getting away with breaking the law.
I also wondered why they were at the school, and what the actual allegation was that had them believing my son could have internal injuries with no outward sign. Why would they believe the accuser after the child vehemently denied the allegation and struggled to avoid being taken? In the few moments after I woke, my mind went over the scenario and decided that if the police sided with CPS, I would ask that my son go home with my BIL, an experienced foster parent, until the whole thing could be sorted out. Without paperwork, the caseworkers couldn't legally take my son, so they'd have to agree. In that situation, I also would pursue assault charges through the entire legal process, to a concluding ruling of guilty or not guilty. No one gets away with hitting my son, ever.
I feel like the cause of the dream, just as other recent nightmares, was stress. I've been dealing with so much harassment at work, and by such ridiculous means, that it is beginning to feel surreal. I recently got a reply back from the company. They told the labor board there can't be abuse because they have an anti-harassment policy. The fact that they're not following it seems to be irrelevant. They seem to think that they and my boss should get away with retaliating against me for filing an OSHA complaint because they've put into writing that harassment isn't allowed. That's kind of like a rapist saying he couldn't have forced himself on his victim because rape is illegal.
I think the last half of the dream is a representation of my knowledge of how this ordeal is affecting my son. He's old enough to be aware of what is happening, and he's demonstrably upset by it. He knows that we've had financial problems because of what my employer did, and that I'm stressed out because of my boss's behavior. Though I've tried to keep him out of the loop, I've been made aware that he knows I'm being abused at work. He's been very sweetly sympathetic, and done everything that a kid can do to make things easier on me. I am really proud of him for that, but I wish he didn't know what was going on, and I'm really angry that the impact of my boss's behavior has bled over into my home.
Needless to say, a rebuttal is in order. Having to write it is stressing me out big time. That, and I'm still suffering harassment at my boss's hands. She has threatened me and everything.
I need this whole thing to be over, and I need to not have to deal with her any more. She has no business being in management. I feel like the police in the dream represented the legal system in real life. It feels like help is coming, but it's moving really slow. That is intensely frustrating, but there's nothing I can do about it.
In the meantime, I'm thinking maybe I should write about the problem. Maybe there are others who could identify with it, and even though it's unlikely that I actually would profit from a fictional account of my experiences, maybe writing about it would be therapeutic.
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