Fragment from another restaurant dream.

October 2001, Provincetown, MA

Waiting tables, but before it got busy. Furiously writing, the words flowing faster than I could transcribe. Before I knew it, my section was full and I was terribly confused as to what to do first. So close(!) to that perfect thought-can’t finish-can’t finish.. too far behind; I can’t catch up.

I squatted down with my hands over my head and took my waiter’s shirt off, wanting to quit right then and there. My friend came over, patted my head, said something nice and told me to relax, as everything would be all right eventually, even if it weren’t just then. “You will finish, Lance.” He said, smiling at me. I was still smiling at him, even as I made the transition back to this world, to my bed. Work’s repetition, on this plane, was still a few hours away. I can and will finish writing this book.