Waitress

I often wake up with songs stuck in my head. They weren't in my dream, and I find that I have not necessarily heard them recently. This morning's tune? "What's Love Got to do with It?" by Tina Turner.

In my dream last night I was a waitress. I was being trained by another server, but they gave me a table to wait before even having shown me around the kitchen. I took the table's order (three people) and delivered them their pasta or whatever they ordered. I gave them their complementary bread and they asked for margarine.

The kitchen was a separate facility behind the restaurant. It was actually more like a huge concrete warehouse with an immense amount of stuff that appeared to have nothing to do with the restaurant. There were many staff in this area and one of them told me that this building experiences a great many earthquakes per day. I looked up to see if there was tons of cracking in the concrete (indicating that it's been fatiguing due to the quakes), but there were none so I felt ok in the building.

I asked one woman if she knew where the margarine was. She said she did, but then didn't. I asked another couple people and they didn't know. Then someone saw a huge spider hanging from the high ceiling and one woman freaked out. There was a sack of babies hanging under the spider, it was gross but it was like 15 feet over our heads so there was no immediate danger. My friend Damian had bought a new lens for his fancy camera and proceeded to start to photograph the spider. The lens was about 6" in diameter.

I finally decided that I needed to go tell my customers that I am new and cannot find their margarine. As I approached their table they were just finishing up eating and I felt really bad. I told them that this was my first day and that no one would tell me where the margarine was, and that I was sorry. I offered them something else instead - a drink or dessert - as an apology, but they said it was ok and handed me a big bag.

Inside the bag were their left overs; I didn't understand why they weren't taking them home. There was a whole chicken that was half eaten. Attached to the side of the bag was the bill that they had paid. They used a credit card and the receipts were there. There was a bunch of other paperwork with the receipts and one of the items was a survey. I could not read it. I wanted to because I'm sure they gave me a bad review, but couldn't. Another waiter came up to me and sort of scoffed at the review. I still wasn't sure what it said, and think that I figured out that they didn't tip me.