A retired Vegas Showgirl walks into a bar…….

Dream State

Yesterday around 5 am I needed to bring a table that was eating beef stew and drinking a Newcastle-like-beer, another Newcastle-like-beer.  I was distracted when a cat brushed up against me.  The cat made me realize that my bedroom curtains were not fully shut and that I needed to pee.  I immediately fixed the curtains on my way to the toilet.   
The brewhouse does not serve beef stew nor is it operational at 5am.  I was dreaming about work.  Again.
I hate waitressing dreams.  They are far worse than the performance dreams.
Many moons ago when I was regularly employed by the Las Vegas entertainment industry, I would have performance nightmares.  I would be at  the show and just as I would hear the first notes of my musical intro, I realize I am standing in the back row of the audience out of costume.  The dream is horrible and awful and despite my efforts to rectify all that is wrong, I fail. 
I would wake upset because I was passionate about the job.
Waitressing dreams are a completely different type of nightmare.  Someone needs a diet coke refill, someone received the wrong meal, and I have to oversee the service of 20 tables though the only table I’m able to visit is the one eating the entree we don’t actually serve.
I wake, upset because I realize I’m loosing sleep over a job I’m not passionate about. 
The brewhouse is a difficult place to work during my waking hours and instead of relaxing during my time outside the workplace, I am forced to relive all the horrible aspects of it in my dreams.  
I lay back down and a cat settles down atop of me.  I remind myself somewhere between barely awake and peripheral dream state that I am not needed at the brewhouse until my next dinner shift and that I should just try to get another solid 4 hours of heavy, healing, relaxing sleep.  That thought is fleeting however.  I am distracted by the table with the beef stew, they are demanding their Newcastle-like-beer.

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