For anyone who hates to hear about other people's dreams, now is your chance to bail.
Last night I had one of those waitress dreams/nightmares. John Baptiste was sitting at the counter waiting for coffee but I couldn't find any cream that was good so I had to go down to the basement to find some. It took me forever to find it, all the while I was painfully aware that his coffee was getting cold. As I was heading upstairs I discovered that we made donuts at the restaurant and I could pick one to eat. IT WAS SUCH A DIFFICULT CHOICE. I had an apron full of creamers and I had just picked the wrong donut. What a waste. I was definitely going to have to have another one.
Who is John Baptiste, you ask? Someone from the far far left field of my brain where, apparently, people from my high school live. I think he's someone who went to my high school but it is quite possible I made him up. When I googled him, "John the Baptist" came up so it might have been him.
This is all I need, baked goods and my past oozing out of my psyche and converging in my dreams. Throw in a spider and we have ourselves a total party.
Fuck, I want a donut right now.