Friday, September 12, 2008

Chaos Coffee.

Last night I ended up at my coffee shop. Because the girl who was to be supervising ended up in the ER. Fun times abound.

I arrived at the shop to discover that the girl who was supposed to be on register, a new girl, simply didn't show. Nor was she answering her telephone. So the whole place was being run by two people. That place, my friends, is not a two person place.

They were of course relieved at my arrival. But one of the two was scheduled to leave at 10pm; we don't close till midnight. She was on the bartender shift, and taking a full load during your last year of graduate school just doesn't allow much give as far as staying late is concerned.

So at 10pm, we were back to two. Luckily we had our hardworking porter on our side, who abandoned cleaning out grease traps under sinks to help us do dishes all night long. If it wasn't for him, I'm sure we would have been there until 2am. As it was, with his help and with stopping food service two hours earlier than usual, we actually got out on time.

The subway came relatively quickly; I was grateful for this, as the tunnel was very hot and because just before my arrival two lovely young men had been gracious enough to each take a piss in the alcove where I usually stand. They then of course retreated back to sit on the storage box, forcing me to walk past them and step over their fresh urine streams to reach a slightly less filthy waiting place. Mmm, subway. Mmm, people.

Upon falling asleep last night, I had strange dreams. They basically involved getting reprimanded by the shop's owner about the job we'd done running and closing the shop, engaging in a screaming fight with him, and ultimately quitting. Several things are odd about this: one is that I almost never see the owner, and if he's even aware of the daily goings on it would be a surprise to me. Two is, while he wouldn't be happy with the reduced service, he's not the type to be an ass about an obviously difficult situation. Three is that we were all dressed like hippies.

The fact is that I've been having messed up dreams pretty much every night. It's probably a function of not sleeping very well and having more pain than usual. I can remember three others from this week: one of my crazy escape-the-house dreams, in which I'm many stories up in a house teeming with malicious forces but I manage to find a back stairwell, usually hidden, through which to escape; one where I had somehow moved in and was having an affair with a man who was married (and maybe had a kid), and then his wife moved back in but I was still living there, and he and she both were acting all resentful of me and I was all, but you told me to come here; and one that morphed so often that I can't put a storyline to it at all.

Last weekend I had a terrible dream about Jonathan. I guess I sort of caught him going to visit another woman; when I found him he was sitting in a waiting room and wouldn't respond to my questions. Just blew me off and made snide remarks. Usually dreamJonathans don't act anything like him; this one was scary because the Jonathan in the dream acted just like real-life Jonathan when he's really pissed off. That one took quite a while to shake off after I woke up; for hours I felt like he was mad at me.

I hate it when my dream life does this to me. It feels so intrusive. If I'm gonna remember dreams I want them to be some kind of awesome happy fantasy life, not this grotesque contortion of worst case scenarios and demonically possessed houses. I wonder if I'll start having the school dreams - where I can't find my locker or my class, and I haven't been to the class for weeks anyway and I definitely don't have the homework, and when I finally find the right room the period is almost over and there's been a test.

I've become more of a problem solver in these dreams than I was when I was younger; no longer stumbling along totally frantic and helpless, I'm often able now to figure out the bizarre logic of a given dreamworld and make my way through somewhat. But at the root they're still all anxiety dreams, and they're no fun to be in. Or, for that matter, to wake up from.


I'm working again tonight; darling E needs to rest, and I really wouldn't hear of her working tonight after spending last night in the ER. Anyway, I need the money, meager as it is. I can pray for a slow night, but now that NYU's back in session I think it'll be much more realistic to pray for a competent crew... or one that at least shows up.

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