My Restless NightLast night I had to sleep in my car. My roommates were snoring so loudly that Icouldn't take it. So I grabbed my blanket and pillows and cozied up beneath mysteering wheel.I speak a quick work on the final word for my divine JOB as well as a quiet,comfortable place to live. God, you know I need it. I SPEAK IT! I thank you forit! The perfect place for the perfect price in the perfect timing, in Jesus'sname!I don't know if it was the uneasy talk I had with my sister before I finally dozedoff or the trauma of having to really sleep in my car but, for the few hours thatI slept I had one horrendous, continuous nightmare.There I sat on a stool directly in front of the publisher of the newspaper I justleft. She was staring at me intensely and there were others crowded around her."If you want to be successful, you have to do THIS," she said as she turned my earas though it were the dial on a bubble gum machine."You're not gonna get it right," she said in a voice like the wicked witch of thewest. "Until you do it like I tell you. Stop being stubborn! I'll show you theway!"She took my arm and rotated it 360 degrees just like a plastic doll. Her fingersmoved to my nose and she squeezed it tightly. Then her fingers groomed my eyebrowsthen widened my eyes.I sat there, numb, holding back."But I want to be ME," I mumbled weakly.She laughed. "What has being you gotten you before? You have to give that up girl.I will show you the way!"The ones standing beside her all smiled and agreed. "You have to comform to get itright. You have to do it just the way she tells you," they chanted in unison. "Sheknows the way!""Yes honey!" a feminine guy in a hot pink button down shirt and slacks said as hesnapped his fingers. "It's HER way or the highway! She will show you how to fly!"His voice had a Latin flavor to it.I sat there numb, knowing that I had to break away. When she turned her back Isprinted, but she saw my move and threw a cloud of pink cotton candy behind me,slowing my efforts."What have you got in your purse?" she yelled after me as I painstakingly tried tofacilitate my escape.I looked down at my beige purse, the zipper was open. I looked inside. Inside itwas all the wisdom that she had given me while I was there."You can't take that with you!" she screamed after me. "You're not a reporter!""I am a reporter!" I screamed back and trudged forward. "I'm just not a reporterlike you. I can't be like you because I'm me."