Irony: barely being able to recall the details of a dream entirely centered around waking up from a dream with barely-remembered fragments of a poignant story idea. Something that would work well in (say…) 2,500 words. Something that should be a snap to jot down. Something involving a Luciferian figure. But the details itself dry up quickly, even as I plop down to jot down those details. But the lesson should be to jot down with a Moleskine or some other paper notebook; even the little bits that I do manage to write down (into TextMate?) are all strangely aligned and cut-off and in some unreadable font.
So instead I am shoved back into work, bussing tables at an entirely too busy restaurant. Checking in with each table (how am I responsible for every table?) which has apparently already been visited (checks being signed, coffees already filled to overflowing). And then having to check in with the owner/manager about some rewards program that the customer insists she has used here before and the manager insisting that no, he has never heard of such a thing.