Disorientation

I’m racing down flights of stairs. More and more of them appear as I search for something recognizable. I run back up them and then to the opposite side of the building. The room I want – wasn’t it on the northeast side? But it’s not there. After what seems like an interminable amount of time racing around this giant building which is swallowing me up in its limitless labyrinth of hallways, I still see nothing that looks familiar to me. When was it renovated? It’s completely changed! If only I could recall the number of the room for my important interview. I am a crazed and shrunken Alice in Wonderland - a Wonderland that has become my nightmare. And still I am running about gripped by panic as foreboding creeps through my body. I can no longer depend on my memory of this building from over twenty years ago. I don’t even know the floor I need. Was it the eighth or the eighteenth, or something in between? How could I have left my phone at home? All the information I need is on my phone. and there’s absolutely nothing I can do. As I move along new corridors, I open doors to rooms, from which strangers’ faces stare blankly back at me. I have no information for which I can even formulate a question. Any room inside this nightmare building could be the room I seek, for I completely forgot its number and I was told it was a random room not part of the department. I glance at a clock, realizing I am much too late to continue this relentless quest. How can my memory of this place have become so dim? I step into an elevator, pressing basement level. Hopefully, I’ll remember at least where I parked my car.