A nightmare about her workplace stressors

Ethan's eyes opened slowly, and light began streaming in. Dense greenery surrounded him, reaching high into the sky above. His vision began to come into focus. He could see he was in a thickly wooded forest full of gigantic redwoods hundreds of feet tall. The midday sun fought to reach the forest floor, but a warm, sourceless light kept the woods from falling into shadow. He looked around. This must be the world of his neighbor's dreaming consciousness. He looked up and directed himself up towards the canopy to scan the surroundings. His body began to rise, and branches whipped past his face as he sped through the air. Ascending above the treeline, he could see the forest extending out to the horizon in every direction. Ecologically, an expanse of trees of this size wouldn't expand over such a massive area in such perfectly even thickness without breaks for hills, mountains, or rivers, but the sleeping mind usually doesn't pay attention to details like that. Where was Ethan's neighbor in this sprawl of redwoods? Ethan paused for a minute and listened carefully.

He took in the noises below: trees creaking in the wind, rustling branches, wind whipping by. Then, much quieter, a distinctly human commotion of conversation. He glided over the treetops to the source. He looked down and saw, between the tree trunks, a crowd of people sitting at tables. It was a busy restaurant stripped of its walls and thrown onto the forest floor. Tables, talkative guests, a kitchen full of busy cooks, and servers darting back and forth. Ethan decided to observe the setting for a moment, fading his body away to watch unnoticed. His eyes scanned the tables for his target.

He saw her standing by a table: she wore a loose black button-down shirt, a black pleated skirt that fell just above her knee, black sheer tights, and black square heels. Her hair was tied into two loose braids that fell across her shoulders, with two little strands of hair framing her face. He saw an apron wrapped tight around her waist and a notepad in her hand. She finished jotting down the table's order on her notepad and then turned around to walk back to the kitchen. He could see stress on her face: her eyebrows were tightly furrowed, and her breaths were sharp.

Ethan observed her walk briskly back to the kitchen. As she stepped, he noticed a small mossy pebble appear out of thin air on the forest floor right below her shoe, just as she set her foot down. Her shoe slipped on the mossy stone, sending it sliding across the floor. She stumbled forward, waving her arms for balance. As she tried to recover, she bumped against the chair of an elderly guest. His seat was suddenly jolted forward, causing him to drop a piece of bread onto the floor. Her face glowed red with embarrassment, and she began to profusely apologize to the old man. Ethan could hear her offer her a new basket of bread and run back to the kitchen.

From a distance, he overheard her explain the situation to the head chef. The stone-faced chef began raising his voice as she shriveled up before him. Defeated, she grabbed some plates from the counter and walked back out to the restaurant floor carrying two hot plates of food. Ethan watched as she delivered the plates to a couple, who began shouting at her for delivering the wrong dishes. Beads of sweat began falling from her face as she apologized again and walked back to the kitchen. Ethan continued, watching her make mistake after mistake, dropping plates on the floor, leaving tables unattended, breaking glassware, and being berated by everyone from guests to the cooks to her managers and even the other servers.