He pulled into the driveway, just four hours past his usual bedtime and only 3 hours left before he would normally get up to start his usual day at the office. Vireen had only been asleep for a couple of hours when they had called him to say the network was down and NOC, Network Operations Center, had been unsuccessful in getting service restored. Some data backups would have to be run manually once it was up again, provided he could get the services switched over to the secondary equipment they kept just for this kind of emergency. He couldn’t believe both routers had managed to fail at the same time; the second was just six months old and had been a successful failover the first month it was installed. The company was upgrading much of the network hardware and was almost complete. With the slowdown in the economy, some purchases had been delayed by several months. Vireen warned that outdated parts or equipment that had outlived their usefulness might be prone to failure, but the CEO, Nelson Morgan, felt it was necessary “to sustain profitability in today’s market,” as he put it. Well tonight would cost them some downtime and certainly some money, but once again Vireen had managed to pull off another miracle. His one hundred and fifty thousand dollar salary was a mere pittance compared to the 50 million dollar profit the company made last year Vireen thought as he slammed shut the door of his 2006 328i.
His tie was already loose as he swung open the door to his two bedroom condo. He tossed the keys into a small weave basket he acquired from his business trip to Taos, kicked off the brown leather loafers he put on as he rushed out the door at 12:33am, and headed towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. He dumped his suit in a heap on the bathroom floor, climbed under the hot stream of water now rushing out of the showerhead, washed everything that mattered, and rinsed off quickly. Reaching for a bright yellow towel whiling turning off the shower, he dried off and wrapped it around his waist. He walked into the dimly lit bedroom, past the mahogany chest of drawers, and dropping the towel onto the floor at the foot of the bed climbed under the cream colored sheets, pulling the gold and green comforter up over his chest. He was thinking about the last time he saw his girlfriend. She was a beautiful Indian woman, about five feet, seven inches tall, slender with long black hair, dark eyes, striking features, and a birthmark on her left hip. They looked great together when they went out to the movies or dinner as they usually did on Saturday nights. He had meant to call her when he got home tonight, but had gotten an email from NOC no sooner than he entered the condo. He had spent some time working on the router remotely and thought the problem was resolved when he fell asleep around 10pm. He had been dreaming about riding a horse around a lake with Najima, his arms wrapped around her, that broad smile with those full red lips facing his own smile. The sound of tinkling bells had broken the moment when the call came regarding the network trouble, jerking him awake.
He is standing on a cliff with a bird telling him to get on his back. “I can’t, I’ll crush you,” he replies, but the bird insists. Vireen steps over the bird and suddenly it grows, lifting Vireen up under it. With a now twenty foot wingspan, the giant crow-like bird spreads its wings and sails off the edge of the cliff. The ground below is orange, purple and green, like someone dropped paint on it. Suddenly it becomes a large block of cheese and they fly around it. The bird says “Grab the cheese, grab the cheese!” Vireen reaches towards the cheese but it keeps moving away from him. The bird laughs and then sails up over the cheese and away. There is an ocean above them and fish are jumping out of it, landing with a splash, but the ocean is upside down. Vireen cranks his head around to look at them right side up, but falls from the bird’s back. He screams as he falls toward the ocean. He reaches back towards the bird but is suddenly in a stainless steel chair like the one’s in the lunch room at work, and the bird is now standing on a matching steel table, restored to his original size. The bird tells him to stop trying to eat him. His girlfriend is across from him seated at the table and says, “You know it’s not ok to eat Corbi, he’s our son.” He blinks several times, unsure of what to do. The bird vanishes. “Pass me the Palak Paneer, honey,” she said to him. The cottage cheese and spinach dish is in front of him. He picks it up to hand to her but drops it when it starts to crow like a rooster.
Crap, he thinks as the crowing sound stirs him from the few hours of sleep he managed to catch. Already time to get up? He rolls over, smashing the pillow under his head tightly, and tries to close his eyes again after clicking the snooze button on his Blackberry smart phone. His stomach grumbles and he felt the urge to urinate. No use, he’d have to get up in five minutes anyways. He yawns, stretching his arms from beneath the covers to either side above his head, and wriggles his toes. Whew, what a dream, he thinks. Maybe I should stop eating pizza while working on call at 2 in the morning. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up. He rises, walks over to the bathroom, turns on the hot water to warm up while he relieves his bladder, then flushes the corn colored liquid down the pipes. He lathers his face and shaves while carefully avoiding his mustache, and then rinses clean. His phone beeps and he strolls back over to the small nightstand next to the bed while drying his face with a small white towel. I love you honey, Najima’s message started, can’t wait to see you tonight and try that curried chicken dish you promised to make for me. BTW, I found a great movie to go with the food, it’s called “The Birds” by Alfred Hitchcock. You’ll love it. L8r 
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