Before sleeping I set the intention I wanted a dream with purpose. Preferably something about my life’s purpose.
Last night the one dream I remember was about a full restaurant and a booth of three customers trying to order ahead of other customers who’d been waiting longer and they all wanted special stuff and an oddly split ticket. I was getting upset and then my coworker was actually assertive for a change and said she could handle it if I let her do more stuff and I said, “Oh, right, like you’re handling the four fucking tables that have people at them that don’t even have menus and haven’t been cleaned off yet? You’re handling that fucking awesome, good job.” Mom got mad at me, of course.