McDohl: That could definitely have been an inspiration; I just remember how the switch to briefly disable the fans was crammed all the way in the corner and took up the entire tile, and since you barely had time to get back to the middle of the room before the fans turned back on again, it seemed like a needlessly frustrating mechanic for whatever boss used to be in there.
Had really vivid dreams last night, but way too many to remember in total. Trying to piece things back together, so this may seem kind of scattered.
There's a big animated diagram that's like a table of contents or a stage select screen for some sort of mission-based game, the missions for which also happen to be the main reality of the dream, but the missions also contains the screen that describes what happens in them. White background with black symbols like the Portal testing chamber introduction/warning plates; each row of symbols contains largely-identical human symbols to portray the individual agents at work in the mission that that row corresponds to; the only animation I can remember corresponds to the mission I'm about to describe, and the animation portrays little agent symbols who all have mustaches now for some reason. Each one does something in turn to depict how the mission plays out, like the one about 2/3 of the way across, color coded tan to indicate its allegiance, moves a square to the right toward its supervisor symbol, indicating it's successfully returned from its mission, and since it's the only agent who was successful at doing so (and the mission represents such a potential gain in power and importance), the agent and supervisor icons go independent of any existing political body or faction and turn burgundy to represent their new allegiance.
As for the actual mission, I'm each agent in turn, and the only part I really remember is the part corresponding to the section of animation I just described: I'm the agent in deep space, and I fall onto the universe's floor. It's like the universe just doesn't go any further in that direction and where it ends, there's just a big wall that extends in all directions and his infinite length and width, but relatively Earth-normal gravity for the potentially infinite mass it represents. I'm falling along with an enormous pile of debris, at least part of which is, for some reason, the Titanic. Despite the Earth-normal gravity, my descent to the surface is slow and safe even though I don't have any equipment to control my position in space or slow my fall, and once I've landed I find that most of the falling debris collapsed into an infinitesimal black hole which somehow doesn't interact with the matter making up the floor, so this picosingularity is just this tiny pinprick of black on the ground, not moving. I "assert control" over the black hole and the remains of the Titanic and inform my supervisor of the situation; suddenly we're in a fast food parking lot in a quiet suburb somewhere working through the ramifications of my success while examining the mission summary board to compare how things have progressed vs. how they're "supposed" to progress, and we determine that we're supposed to go rogue now because our icons turn burgundy. Our Homeowner's Association is not going to be pleased.
Before I woke up, naturally I had to check in with the Walmartian store from my last two dreams, but I couldn't stay, since I was a rogue agent now, and was likely to be pursued. My coworkers wished me the best of luck, but they were too busy installing the railing from the Titanic into a front-end display for merchandise to provide any assistance against my former comrades.
