Hatsuyume

Dreams, Time, and Corporate Flux

Spider!

Over the holidays, I took two weeks off with one simple goal: to relax. No meetings, no emails, no corporate hell—just time to breathe. But every morning, I woke up with a pit in my stomach. The reason? Recurring dreams about being late.

Every night, it was the same: I’d miss a meeting, blow a deadline, or rush to something I’d already missed. And every morning, that feeling of scrambling carried over, leaving me starting the day in a state of mental catch-up.

In Japanese tradition, the first dream of the year—Hatsuyume—is thought to hold meaning. My dad used to ask every New Year, “Did you dream about Mount Fuji? A crane? A snake?” These symbols represent good fortune: stability, longevity, wealth.

This year, I didn’t dream about any of them. But in the first week of January, I had a different kind of encounter: a massive spider crawled out of my tissue box. It startled me, to say the least.

Now, spiders in Japanese folklore are spiritual creatures. Sometimes they’re messengers or shapeshifters, weaving threads of fate. Other times, they’re mischievous and unpredictable. So was this spider a sign of good luck? A warning? Or just proof that I need to check my tissue boxes more often?

The connection between spiders and lateness, if there is one, escapes me. But the dreams stuck with me because they felt bigger than the usual “you’re anxious” analysis.

Meaning

For years, I’ve prided myself on being on time—to meetings, deadlines, even life. Time was the one thing I could control in corporate hell, where chaos is a feature, not a bug. But lateness in a dream? That’s not just missing a meeting. That’s priorities shifting, transitions looming, and the start of a new year that already feels unsettled.

With a corporate reorg on the horizon, it’s no wonder I feel a little untethered. Even though I’m not directly affected this time, reorgs always ripple outward. They’re reminders that nothing is ever fully secure—not teams, not projects, not the ground beneath your feet.

Then there’s the nagging sense of unfinished business. I’ve worked hard to set up my team and ensure the work continues beyond me. Yet there’s always that invisible list of things that don’t fit neatly into a plan. Am I late because I’ve left something undone? Or because the work, by design, is never truly finished?

And what about the spider? Maybe it wasn’t about good or bad luck. Maybe it was just there to remind me, like the dreams, that some things aren’t meant to be controlled. Life, like a web, is never tidy. You can weave it carefully, but surprises will find their way in.

So, Bitches, here’s the truth: we’re never really “done.” Maybe that’s not the point. In corporate hell and beyond, the work keeps moving, the web keeps shifting, and what feels like “lateness” might just be the messy reality of trying to leave something meaningful behind.

Perhaps the dreams—and even the spider—were reminders: that control is fleeting, that transitions will come whether we’re ready or not, but the threads we weave, the connections we make, and the intention we bring to the chaos? That’s what lasts.