I have the same dream, over and over, about organizing
papers, a job I never finish. Buried in stacks of paper,
I organize them in disorganized ways. But someone
or something I never hear, never see, keeps sabotaging me.
Piles get higher and higher, they never shrink. 
Nothing gets done without me.
	
In my repeating dream, I arrange dozens and dozens of 
papers. Humans often lack know-how, so I manage papers 
for all, whether they want me to...or not. I’m engulfed 
in stacks and stacks of paper, keep on adding more and more. 
Piles get higher and higher, they never shrink. 
Nothing gets done without me. 

I know where every paper lies, where each multi-page project
 is found. But more paper appears from somewhere
– mounds and mounds, skyscraper high. Where do I put it?
Paper piles up faster and faster, arrives from everywhere. 
Piles get higher and higher, they never shrink.  
Nothing gets done without me. 

Day becomes night and I still can’t finish my work. I drop 
from exhaustion, but sleep can't cure frustration. Pages and 
pages still rest on the desk, but they’re not as I left them:
the papers are changed, rearranged overnight. 
Piles get higher and higher, they never shrink.  
Nothing gets done without me.

Doors bolted, locked up tight, windows secured.....a breeze 
in the night couldn’t move them. What rearranged those heaps, 
those piles, those stacks of paper..... is it the work of a human
hand or the haunted fingers of a phantom?
Piles get higher and higher, they never shrink.  
Nothing gets done without me.