Weber’s Dream – (a story/ish)

Weber’s Dream – (a story/ish)

for those who haven’t studied Sociology or philosophy, Max Weber is a very important influence on a lot of academics. But this is just a story based on something he talks about. It’s very symbolic and I wondered what Freud would say about it?

……

Fred went to bed. Thinking he was tired after a full day’s work and needed the rest. Fred thought he was pretty clear headed and calm, so he should sleep well.

He dropped off to sleep fairly easily. And at first, he was dreamless. So there was no problem.

When Fred saw the iron cage, he wasn’t that concerned. He was kind of into BDSM and wondered who would be found within it’s bars? Himself or some woman he could torture a little?

He saw himself. Blast!

At first, all he did was sit there. Ok, seemed like a waste of a dream… But things picked up a bit. Outside the cage, his boss showed up. First as a priest, then as a cop, then as a belly dancer, and lastly as a clown. I.N.T.E.R.E.S.T.I.N.G!

Fred wasn’t too sure what to make of this. He didn’t see his boss in any of those ways. He just wasn’t that much of a follower of authority, and had no illusions of what his boss and he were to each other. More like colleagues than boss and employee. And what was up with the belly dancer?? He wasn’t into his boss like that. lol His boss did like to joke and prank though. He could sort of see the clown.

First the boss/priest took Fred out of the cage, and led him down a pathway. With a leash on. Fred was on hands and knees. Fred wasn’t impressed or interested. They came back to the cage which was showing signs of rust. And ivy was growing up the bars.

Then the cop/boss took him out of the cage and led him around, brought him back to a cage that was deteriorating further.

Then his boss/belly dancer led him along the path. He giggled and shuffled. The boss/belly dancer tapped him with a cane and sashayed back to the cage. Which was further declining.

And then there was the clown/boss. Who kept prodding Fred with some kind of buzzer, poker thing that Fred wasn’t too sure he liked or hated. Or even knew what it was. It was kind of annoying, kind of titilating.

And the cage was half covered with ivy and the bars were rusted to the point of flaking badly, and looked pretty weak. And the lock was looking pretty weak as well.

But they held when Fred tested them.

At first Fred had been kind of excited, or curious to see what would happen. And maybe even a little confused?

But now that these incarnations of his boss were all standing outside the cage taunting him, Fred wasn’t too sure he wanted the dream to continue. He tried to wake himself up and got frustrated by his failure to do so. And got mocked more for his trouble.

The world outside the cage was changing too. Looking more and more like a dystopian wasteland. He half expected his boss creatures to turn into zombies. But was really glad when they didn’t.

Fred noticed his clothes were wasting, and he was becoming more and more emaciated. And he was so so thirsty! So so hungry. And all his boss figures would do was to laugh at him and clap each other on the back.

The priest said, ‘Fred, you have no morals. You’re excommunicated!’ and turned his back on Fred.

The cop said, ‘Fred, you have no conscience. You’re incarcerated!’ and walked away.

The belly dancer said, ‘Fred, you have no drive. You’re banned!’ and with a turn of her head, she flounced away.

The clown said, ‘Fred, you have no leadership. You’re dethroned!’ and bounced away on his big shoes.

Fred started to cry. He knew he had failed some important test that he hadn’t even known he was taking. That he’d had no preparation for. And now all he felt was naked and chained, in a cage that could destroy him. And trying to leave it could scar his arms and legs, maybe more due to the rust and iron flakes.

And he cried himself to sleep in his dream. Though in his life he was waking. The alarm had gone off.

Fred went to work, and just in case asked his boss if he was happy with his performance? His boss smiled and said, ‘Well you’re not fired’. And clapped him on the back. Walking away.

Fred hesitated. Did he take that as a sign that all was well? Or that they thought he was the best they could do? That he was the body on the spot? Fred didn’t know what to do.

So he just went to his post and began his day. For the umpteeth day in a history of days.

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