Last night, I had a dream, and it involved an item in the Euroffice office stationery that we have in the Advertising Department.
Come to think of it, I couldn’t figure out if it was a weird, eerie, or unique dream. But one thing’s for sure: It’s worth writing, or telling, or whatever you may call it, but I would write, or tell, about it anyway. More or less, as far as I could remember (well, I could remember most of my dreams but others can’t; but in general, I’ve read, dreams, for all of us, are very easily forgotten the moment we wake up and that’s because we don’t consolidate them or in other words we don’t transfer them from short-term to long term immediately upon waking), this was how it went:
I woke up and found myself in a secluded place; though it’s dark, it didn’t give me the jitters, or the creeps, or even the claustrophobic feeling (I am, in real life!) as if I’m used to being in such an environment. I saw nothing; heard nothing but the deafening silence; felt no movement, just the normal beating of my heart, or so I thought. When I felt my heartbeat, nothing was there. No thug-thug-thug, just complete silence. That’s because I don’t have a heart! That’s when I realised I’m not capable of moving; not even my hands were there. No heart and no hands. What happened to me? Am I dead? Oh no, I couldn’t be dead; I have a deadline to beat. Fear instantly ate me; I was terribly frightened of the thought that I screamed to the top of my lungs: “Somebody help me! I don’t want to die yet!”
That’s when I felt a rush of movement coming from all the sides; then a thunderous voice came: “How can you be dead, you’re not even alive. You’re lifeless since you were created. We are what people call Pencils.”
My denial came so instant, agitating: “What did you just say? I am a pencil? Of course not; I’m a human being and I’m an Englishman. My name is Walter.”
Becoming One with Euroffice Office Stationery
Then I heard a different voice with the same angry tone spoke up: “Aha! So you’re the one who was sent here in the Euroffice Office Stationery Purge Booth.Something of a higher being may have sent you here to teach you a lesson. What have you done to our colleagues that would merit your appearance here? Would you like to share what “pencil crime” you’ve committed?”
I didn’t know what they’re talking about. A crime? To a pencil? I don’t even care a thing about pencils...
Then all of a sudden a scene was flashed before me: There was the human being me, one time at the office, holding a pencil, so engrossed with my usual copywriting jobs. I was scribbling something on paper then suddenly I stood up, picked the paper up, crumpled it, and threw it on the rubbish bin. Not yet contented with what I did, I grabbed the pencil and without a thought, broke it in half, hurled it to the wall, picked the broken pieces again, and threw them in the bin. I even kicked the chair when they didn’t land inside the bin. I was very furious. I couldn’t put my thoughts into words. The deadline was coming up – the copy was due in two hours – and I couldn’t gather my thoughts to develop a brilliant advertising concept.
“You were so enraged back then. You were so angry with Paper. How could you inflict such pain to Paper? The same thing you did with our brother Pencil. He has been so supportive of you, helping you out whenever you’re brainstorming to come up with fresh copy ideas. And in the end, when it’s your brain that was the real problem, having been so tired and exhausted from too much thinking, you decided to punish Pencil as if he’s the one causing you to fail in your job,” said a different pencil with an eerie yet clear voice.
Guilty as Charged By My Colleagues
“Did you know that breaking a pencil in two, especially if you haven’t used it for a long time, is the worst thing that you could ever do to it? Pencils are created because of their noble purpose, and that’s to help people write, draw, compose songs, solve math, and others. We are behind the creation of some of the greatest melodies on Earth. Think of all the towering skyscrapers around the world, or the grandest bridges that have been erected. Without pencils, those structures wouldn’t even materialise. We’ve been there from conceptualisation up to the final engineer’s blue print… and it doesn’t matter if you’re the priciest one in the market, or if you’re the cheapest one there is in Euroffice office stationery; your role in humanity don’t even have a price to it,” said one pencil in such a mellow voice that reminded Walter of her dead Grandma.
I was in complete silence; I couldn’t even manage to make any sound. I was totally ashamed of what I did to that pencil, to my colleague. I felt that no words would appease them; feeling sorry now for the sin I’ve committed in the past wouldn’t matter any more.
“But do you know what makes us very happy, Walter?” The question surprised me.
“I don’t know that either, I’m sorry…”
“It seems that you’ve already forgotten it. Once upon a time, you made us all very happy, Walter. Remember when you were younger? You were so engrossed with writing then. You were using so many pencils when you’re scribbling or making senseless figures. You even had a small box which you set aside for us; that box was full of 25 pencils in all. Imagine you were making 25 pencils happy... We’re happy when people use us. We’re happy if they sharpen us; we like the feeling of being injected into sharpeners because that’s when the lead, our head, would come out and our purpose is fulfilled. We feel noble whenever we correct the wrong moves you make because that’s enough to keep you going as if nothing bad happens... All your life, we can say that you’ve been appreciative of us. We even take note of the fact that most of your best copies you did using us. It’s just that single moment when you’ve hurt one of us the most that brought us the greatest disappointment, and hurt, too,” said another pencil voice.
“Mea Culpa! I Wan to Change!”
“I’m really very sorry guys,” I said in between pencil tears (they were not tears as we know it but more of dust-like particles that were coming out of my pencil body); I was sobbing actually; my tears were falling endlessly (I admit, I had never shed as much tears as a person).
“I now know that the harm I’ve done is unpardonable in your terms. Please forgive me; you don’t deserve such rude and brute treatment from me. I’m apologising too, to Paper, as well as to other items in Euroffice office stationery that I have exposed to shame, pain, and complete wantonness. If only I would be given another chance…”
I wasn’t even finished yet with what I was saying when suddenly everything around me swirled as if I was moving very fast in a circular motion. I felt like I was falling into nothingness. Then I realised I was wide awake, breathing hard and sweating. It was only a dream after all but I felt it really happened to me; I could still see the familiar darkness; I could still feel how it was like to be a pencil.
Thanks to my dream, I feel like I am a changed man. From now on, I will be more “humane” when using mundane things like pencil, paper, clip, ruler, scissors, tape dispenser, staples, and others. I will put myself into their shoes if I have to, so I could understand why it is not good to waste each of them or leave them anywhere; or why I must bring each item I borrowed from an officemate.
And thank heavens, there’s Euroffice office stationery that will help me repent for my “crimes” and “sins,” and for a start, I will create my humble stockroom of valuable office supplies.
Guess what item I will buy first.
The Night Euroffice Office Stationery Taught Me a Life Lesso