Cez Dreams: The Restaurant

Date: 5/1/2018

I dreamt I had this argument with an über driver because they kept on going in circles. So I got dropped off on the side of the Interstate highway and had to walk to the next town over. While I was walking, I kept on finding money (like we're talking 20, 50, 100 dollar bills) And I picked them up, because ???? It's money. I get to the center of the next town, and I see a group of guys in suits talking. They leave and disperse or whatever, and I see a one dollar bill on the floor. But suddenly I feel that there's something different about this one, so I pick it up, to see it's signed and purposefully pinned down to the floor by a chair. I take it anyway and I turn to see one of the suited men leering at me. I'm spooked, so I rush into the nearest bistro I can find as the guy calls the men back. It's a terra cotta brick building that says "some thing something's bistro" in curled letters It doesn't "literally" say that, I just can't remember the name exactly, because this is a dream and I'm running from a bunch of dudes Maybe Leo's? Not sure. For some reason the actual bistro is on the third level of the building, which for some reason didn't strike me odd at the time. But here's where it gets weirder I sit myself down, and pretend to be calm, and try to order something It's kinda dimly lit and there's some kinda slow jazz Spanish guitar music in the background? The kind you'd buy at Bed bath n Beyond or Starbucks. There's no one there, except me and what looks to be a waitress. She has a fake bronze, too much mascara, and her hair is messily brought up in a bun. She's wearing some kind of black server's apron?) thing and fish net stockings. She's also holding one of those ticket things for writing down your order and a pen. But when I try to get her attention, I see her eyes are dead panned on the large window out looking the street where the group of men are. I'm waving, making signals but staring at her eyes, I see something foreign behind all that mascara. Primal fear. Something you'd see in a rabbit or a stray cat. Before I can psycho analyze her emotions, I speak up. "Um hello?" She, turns, pretty startled. "Uhh yes how can I hep you?" She's still holding her pen and paper but now has her attention on me. "Can I have a menu?" Her voice sounds thickly Armenian or heavily Italian. She is fresh off the boat. Like first day in America kinda fresh. Her face lowers, darkens even. ".....uh...what....is.........." "What.... is,,, a menu?" I am confused. "Oh, a menu? It's like,,, a paper! That you give to someone? For food? Err.." My eyes dart to the table across from me. Near where she's standing, there's a menu. God it even says "MENU" right on it. "There! That's a menu" I point to the paper. "I don't understand what you mean" "Menu! For my order? Food? Do you understand food? "I don't understand what you mean." I come close to her to pick the paper up. She moves back almost like if cornered. She's holding her pen and paper in front of her face almost like if it's her only mode of defense. "Aren't they supposed to teach you this like, to be a waitress?" Her bodies trembling in fear and confusion, eyes locked on me, no- not me, but the door behind us. That's when I realize, in my vague and short encounters with Italian- the term "Menu" is a universal word. It's used in most European, Latin American even Asian countries. Literally anyone would be able to recognize it no matter who they are I'm trembling at this point. "You're not a waitress are you..," She stares me dead in the eye ".....what....is....a...waitress....." I break my concentration to the footsteps stamping up the stairs. I realize that I cannot see a door for the kitchen, or any place for making food , except the bar. I realize there's no other exit except those stairs and the fire escape I came up on. As I snatch my menu I ask her quickly, "what do people order here? The men??" "What do they DO?" She snaps out of it at least a little She explains, in the most broken accent and voice " they order... the three items... I take order...three,,," I look to where she's pointing. APPETIZER. LUNCH. DINNER. I immediately slam my body down in the chair when the door busts open It's the guy who was leering at me from before. The one I stole the dollar from. When he sees me, he looks somewhat relieved . Even smiles a little bit as he exhales "Ah Lola, I see our guest is being taken care of?" She doesn't say a thing, but lowers her head and nods. I hold up my menu a little, feigning concentration on my order. "Oh, you're the owner of the restaurant?" His smile grows wider. "Ah yes, you could say that. I've been the owner of this for over 14 years. It was passed down to me, by my father, before me. It's been in the family for generations now." I grow increasingly aware of my surroundings. Like the salsa jazz music still playing in the background. The run down telephone booth behind me, littered with gum and graffiti . And the girl strutting behind "The Owner" of the bistro. "OOOOH Whoooos that??? I don't recognize them!! Maybe from Jon's crew??? Hmmmmmm. What's your name?" "Yes, tell us, what is your name?" Pipes up The Owner, intrigued. I focus heavily on my menu. Just have to get the right combination of 3 items. That's what the Not-waitress told me. I look at the girl. Unlike the owner's sloppy, heavily worn, unfit, dress suit, She's decked out in scene garb. Like if she only got her clothes from Hot Topic. Only reds and neons and blacks and the tips of her hair is red? I turn to read the menu. What even is half of this stuff? "Hot poppers" "Giorno's grule" "Dicarbra's shots" "Giavani's cold prosciutto" Some of the items I recognized as some kind of Italian food. the other I did not: 'Al's men, stirred','Club and Strupoli'. I notice I haven't spoken in a while, and I look up to the three staring at me, impatient for a response. "Umm, my name is Organza" I say hesitantly. Everyone knows it's best to fake your name in times of crisis. It would be best to fake it or hide it. They don't need info on me. Works on Fairies, and people who might have a gun in their back pocket. "Oh, what a beautiful name. Like a lily. Your mother must be very proud." He purred. I let out a little sigh of relief. Mob bosses don't watch Star Wars. He straightens up "In fact, I haven't heard that name around these parts. Where did you say you were from?" I'm cornered. What do I say?? I look up to the Not-Waitress. "I would like some hot poppers, Denis's Glauc, and The Crew's Special, please." The Owner smiles at me. "Excellent Choice." The Not-Waitress nods, bites her lip and scuffles away. The Scene teen half whispers in The Owner's ear. "Who do you think sent them?" I quickly respond. "Actually, I wasn't sent here from anyone. I came here myself." "I'm from a ways, and I was intrigued to hear about your little 'Bistro' " He frowned. The Scene girl smiled. "If you're not sent by anyone, that means that you came by yourself." "If you're not sent by anyone, that means that you came...,,,, ALONE." Her face is scewed dementedly, from the painful grin on her face. "I didn't see any cars or bouncers, did you Pooch?" He grunts, and folds his hands in a little, but nods sagely. "If you're not from here, then you have no use to us or business. I have too many connections to get involved in another foreign "offer". I can't take those kinds of risks." "But, you know too much, and it would be a shame if Lou or Dan broke off their cooperation because of trust issues." "So, I suppose I'll just have to dispose of you." He says defeatedly, whipping out an automatic switchblade from his dress pocket. He now has a hard grip on my arm. "OOOOOH STABBY STABBY" giggled the scene girl manically, "STAB THE LEG! STAB THE LEG! LEG STAB! Stabby leggy stabby leggy stab stab♪ " she sing songs off pitch The Owner growns from her input and digs the knife deep into my thigh. I'm sobbing from the pain. My leg is split open in a wide gape, and you can see the muscles and ligement filling with blood and moving in pain. A single blood trail moves down my thigh dripping to the ground. The scene girl is offering up more ways of torture and I feel the Owner digging deeper into my leg but I can't her anything any more and my focus is getting hazy. And then I woke up. ------------------------------------------------------ I wonder if I could have changed the outcome somehow. Like said I was with Lou or Jon or Dan Or realized that the source of the money was coming from somewhere in the woods on the side of the interstate.