The latest dream I can remember had me hired to manage a failing grocery store branch on the bad side of town. There was an antagonistic WASP district manager with a bad moustache, black gangbangers playing hoops in the parking lot, dingy mop buckets, sinks and toilet stalls in the unpartitioned office area, run-down city buses dropping off gritty, hyper-critical immigrant grandmothers to finger my cantaloupes, shoplifting teenagers and a sassy yet relatable latina love interest just waiting to expound her hard luck backstory.
Sometimes you wake up to justified disappointment at your subconscious' lack of creativity, cribbing every generic, clichéd B-series drama you ever watched when there was nothing else on TV. Then you might rub your eyes, stumble into the bathroom and just stand there a few seconds when you remember the one detail that just... wait, what the fffff- huh?!?
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