Well, if that title doesn’t say it I don’t know what will.
I’ve been having really scary dreams lately. Like really scary. What’s worse is I awaken from them with some of the worst anxiety I’ve ever felt. I don’t know why as things are turning in a positive direction for me overall. Alas, I have a friend who owned a bar in Houston and she explained it perfectly – being in the weeds day in and day out will produce these kinds of anxiety-filled dreams.
It’s not like my current job is hard. The wok is about the easiest cooking vessel I’ve ever used. Everything is quick and rapid fire. Alas, the tickets are like Medusa heads – you knock one out only to have three more spawn from its wake.
These dreams are picking at my deepest fears too. From the current political landscape, to waging the war for freedom, to my fear of public singing. I had two terrors last night, distinctly memorable – one in which someone was about to shoot me execution style for not bowing to his every word (maybe not taking the shot?), and one in which I accompanied my roommate to one of her karaoke nights and got the urge to just throw myself out there again after so long. I was so scared picking my song, but that’s when I woke up – and I was even more scared waking up from that than I was waking up from getting shot. Of course, my fear of public singing far outweighs my fear of dying, but still, something is tugging at my deepest seated fears, and it’s only been since I’ve started this job.
I only hope I am rewarded in some way for putting up with this shit. It’s not been fun, and as I sit here on break typing this post, getting ready to slave over a hot wok for the dinner rush here in a bit, I pray I make it through alive.
If this is a test, I only hope I’m passing. If not, I hope there’s something in the wings to mitigate it soon. This isn’t pleasant, and I’m ready for happier times.
The Inked Autist 2.0 