Addendum.

That same night, I previously had dreamt that I was in the upstairs of a busy Chinese restaurant built into a hill, and I had to push between tables to get to stairs leading down to a pale blue-walled ground floor that was overoptimistically used as a dining room and rather empty apart from some gray-blue scuffed tiles and a few booths against the far wall and a back wall opening up into the kitchen over some metal trays, on which food was put out and through which I could see a bright yellow and well-lit unadorned kitchen with a few cooks in white moving around the metal tables in it.

There in that lower room, I walked from the stairs past a quizzical looking (female) (Chinese) waiter who was standing around, and then past some potted plants and old leaflets on the front window ledge, and then strolled out through the double set of doors in an interior glassed-in foyer and onto the street.

And, I knew that although that was how you got outside from where I lived, I felt very awkward, and that I wish I didn't have to do that so often.