
An office archives dreams the way other offices archive paperwork. Wall after wall of glass jars holds glowing scraps of imagination: butterflies, flowers, tiny creatures, each labeled and shelved beside ranks of grey filing cabinets. Clerks in dark suits sort folders at desks scattered across star-printed carpet, one dropping a tray of coffee mid-stride. A carousel spins slowly in the center, its canopy hung with drifting folders instead of horses. Elsewhere, a man hauls an oversized pillow across the floor while another sits wound in loose reels of film. In one tilted room, chairs and cups float free of gravity, watched by a curious cat. A giant hourglass drains sand beside a wall of leather-bound volumes, and at the far window, two painters scrub a pane that opens straight onto clouds. Every drawer, jar, and reel keeps its own small task, tidy enough to take apart piece by piece.
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