You wake up after a disturbing dream. You open your eyes without getting out of bed and stare at the ceiling in dismay. It was only a dream, but reality still feels different. You look around you, everything is still in its place.

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Some posters are slightly tilted and the oval mirror on your right has disappeared. Was there really always a mirror? You keep looking around your room and discover the usual family portrait on the bedside table. It looks different: your siblings are grimacing, your father looks like he's about to say something and your mother is looking at him with reproachful eyes. You come out with a dreadful face, your mouth twisted, one eye half closed and the other the white one. It's a lousy picture.

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You continue scanning with your eyes to check that everything is still the same. Now you come across the clock. You are half an hour late for work.

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You leave your apartment in a hurry. You are distressed about your appearance, you try to fix your hair with your hands and remove the wrinkles from your shirt. You found no mirror at home. You walk briskly to the office. You pass the usual newsstand, but something immediately catches your eye:

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"It wasn't the right decision, we will correct."

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Says the newspaper in the headline. Underneath is a photo of the president. It's not his best picture either, it reminds you of the grimaces your brothers used to make in the family portrait. You pick up a copy and stop to read the note:

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"At a press conference, the president acknowledged that the agreements reached last month regarding mobility reform were not ideal. After sharing the report, it was made public that the total loss on this project was $4 million..."

You are perplexed. You can't believe your president, that sack of ego and pride, is sharing something so compromising. You continue reading a few lines below:

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"... within a week the National Assembly of Failure will be convened to find the most appropriate solution, draft the post-mortem of the reform and follow up on the new adjustments together with the president."

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You suddenly feel a strong push. The girl who crashed into you apologizes to you, she felt strangely sincere and authentic. You wake up from that little trance and decide to continue on your way to the office. Now you are later than ever.

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On the way you rehearse your apologies, say goodbye to your punctuality bonus, and figure out the best route to avoid running into your obnoxious boss on the way to your cubicle.

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You enter the building and what was once a lobby with rowdy people in suits and ties is now an unrecognizable space. No hustle and bustle, no crowded elevators, no long, haggard faces. Jeans, dresses, even some people disheveled or in pajamas.

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You take the elevator up and rush into the office. You crash head-on into your boss. You swallow and get ready to recite your well-rehearsed excuse. Yet something else springs from your throat, a strange little spark compels you to say:

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-Sorry, I woke up late.

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Your boss lets out a small laugh and gives you an awkward pat on the back.

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-I have sent everyone the presentation of the board. I'll be back later to finish getting everything in order for my vacation. See you tomorrow.

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You forget for a second the strange behavior of your boss, you can't find the time clock. That diabolical device that has robbed you of your salary and peace of mind in the mornings. It has been removed.

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As you enter the office you appear completely at ease with the whole situation and decide to catch up with your colleagues, you discover that many have decided to take home office, or directly resigned to devote themselves to their personal projects. You manage to work a couple of hours, but your mind makes it difficult to continue. Yesterday it all seemed so real, the stress at its peak, the urgent reports, the dissatisfaction and the general hatred towards your boss. Where is everyone?

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You decide to go outside to get some air. You slowly get up from your seat, look from side to side fearfully searching for the inquisitive look of your boss. You know he's not there, but it's an acquired habit.

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As you step outside and look up to see everything more calmly, you find a different place. Although everything is in place, something still looks different. You stop again at the same newsstand from the morning, but now you take the time to look more closely.

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Beauty catalogs seem to be less aggressive. Business magazines tell different things: "Tips to overcome a crisis," "Top 5 mistakes of the week," "Fired for the first time? Become part of the community," "Subscribe to Financial Failures."

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Everywhere you read unheard things: "Get the new edition: Cold War: The Winners and Losers Version", "Take care of your mental health, one job at a time", "Find out why the vaccine didn't work", "Apply for your scholarship to the Vocational Passion Fund", "You are not your job", "I screwed up", "Screw the numbers, that's how companies measure results".

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So many letters swirl around in your head, you feel you lose your balance and your feet slide like ice on the pavement.

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You regain your balance thanks to two people who stopped to support you. Who are these kind and carefree people? Where am I?

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You decide to go back to the office. Maybe you ask for tomorrow to find out.

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