Do you still have vivid dreams? The kind of wild, emotional dreams that you had as a child? My dreams were so vivid as a child that I often woke up still in the dream world and felt compelled to reach for pen and paper to write them down, transform them into stories. This continued into adulthood, then slowly faded. For awhile, I didn’t remember my dreams at all, I don’t know why. I would just wake up and go about my day. Now imagery and fantasy have started to permeate my dreams again.

Sometimes I dream in analogies.

When I woke up this morning, the image that remained from my dream, was of a former boss who, in my dream, was reporting to a new CEO.

My boss was sitting at a tiny desk – an elementary school desk – in the space just outside the CEO’s office. There was a big, beautiful office deserving of his rank just off to the side. He could have taken that office – in fact, his boss was encouraging him to – but he kept saying, No, I’m good here.

And, at the same time, he was complaining to me that he couldn’t move the needle with his boss.

You can see the problem, I’m sure.

My boss would never have given up space.

The funny thing is, that this former boss of mine would never have put himself in that position. He was very conscious of power and the symbols of power and influence.

When he promoted me and I took an office near my team, I rearranged the office. It had contained a huge desk that could only fit if it confronted the door, which I replaced with a smaller desk in the corner that didn’t create a barrier between me and my visitors. I moved the credenza and asked the maintenance guys if they had a white board and bookshelves and a circular table and chairs in storage that they could spare. (The maintenance guys, who were wonderful, also painted the office before they’d let me move in.) I added ambient lighting (so much better than the cold overhead fluorescents) and art that I brought from home. The table and chairs became the focus in my office, about working together.

The first time that my boss visited my newly renovated office, I remember he said, “Nice” in an approving way, then looked at my hand-me-down table, a little scuffed from being in storage, and told me to have maintenance bring me a new table.

“Oh no,” I said, my head full of the work that needed to be done. “I’m fine with this.” Later I bought one of those “wood-colored” magic markers to clean up the scuffs.

I should have demanded a new table.

The whole time that I reported to this boss, he was encouraging me to take up more space: to go to meetings with other executives, to take my seat at the table, to go on business trips with people who should have been my peers but weren’t because I didn’t treat them that way.

I grew a lot under his mentorship. And I did my best to take up space but I struggled with that.

And I gave up a lot of power because of it.

Looking back, I should have demanded a whole new office.

My predecessor had the office next to my boss’s office, in a wing with other executives, and two windows.

My office had been converted from a very large storage room by an earlier director who, during a reorganization, had found himself relegated to a space he didn’t like and demanded that the space become an office. Because it had originally been designed as a storage room, it wasn’t on a main aisle and it didn’t have any windows, and people coming to visit me for the first time often had to ask people in the surrounding cubicles for directions. Which, at the time, I kind of liked because it meant that people only came to see me when they really wanted to.

How different would my impact have been if I had asked for my predecessor’s office?

Right next to my boss, near other executives, where the COO often dropped by. With the trappings of power: windows, first-level furniture instead of hand-me-downs.

How would that space have changed the perception that the leaders I needed to influence had of me?

It is not always necessary to take up space.

When you are at someone else’s wedding reception, for example, it’s good to let the Bride and Groom and maybe their parents take up space. A good wedding guest is a credit to the spirit of the occasion, helping others have a good time but not becoming the center of attention.

Unless you are using your power to reflect glory on the person of honor at their own ceremony, it is rude and self-centered to take up space that belongs to the honoree.

It shows how little love you have for yourself or others, that you have to hog all the attention.

But sometimes it is important to take up space.

An executive coach told me recently that she was frustrated by how few women pursue CEO jobs. A CEO is someone who has to take up space: they represent the company externally, to the board, in the marketplace, to the competition or potential partners, to the media. They need to take up space internally to sense when the ship is off course and cut through the preconceived notions of their executive team to get it back on track, and then know when to step back and let people do their jobs.

That’s a lot of space to take up.

It requires courage and a display of confidence, a willingness to demand the best for yourself and your team. The willingness to dictate that the bowl of M&Ms in your dressing room not contain the color green, as a mark of attention to detail.

Where do you need to take up more space?

That’s my challenge to you today: to think about where you may need to take up more space.

And how you can effectively go about doing that.

Do you need to turn your camera on, in a remote meeting? Or take a seat at the conference table instead of along the wall? Or take a more prominent seat?

Or ask for time from someone who seems busy with “more important things”?

Or dress up a little more for a professional event?

Or volunteer to give a speech at your next Toastmasters meeting?

Pick something that scares you and give it a try.