Dreamt the chairs were empty but the mirrors knew my name

I'm standing in the old shop on Main, the one they tore down in 2012, and every chair is full of light instead of people. The mirrors won't show my face no matter which way I turn — just the reflection of the back of my own head, like the whole room is turned around. A customer's voice I can't place keeps asking if I've got time for one more, and I keep saying yes, but the scissors in my hand are just two silver spoons. Woke up with that feeling you get when you've been holding your breath without noticing.