Saturday, September 20, 2008

dream #2

I went to bed the other night thinking, "My hair looks so blah. I would love to get it cut and colored at a really tony salon." And then my inner fiscal conservative said, "Calandria, you can SO NOT afford that right now. Dream on..."

For once I heeded my inner fiscal conservative.

In this dream I lived in a gritty, grey, depressed city. It had clearly been an industrial center at some point. Old factories and warehouses abounded. It had also seen better days as a home for the arts. Ornate, crumbling theaters and galleries lined one street. It was a city with lots of steeply-graded streets and alleys. Kind of like the post-WWII Vienna I saw in the film "The Third Man" the night after I had this dream.

In my dream I walked from my home, a townhouse furnished with antiques, where it seems my parents either lived with me or were visiting, to the best hair salon in the city. It was a small, dingy place with a cracked cement floor and dirty windows that looked out onto a square. I sat down and told the stylist, a rather curt man wearing a tight, black t-shirt, that I wanted it trimmed and colored. Instead of looking in the mirror, I turned my chair to look out the grimy windows to the square because there was a demonstration going on. I should have written this dream down immediately because now I don't remember what the people, several thousands, were demonstrating about, but at the time I did. I do remember that I had conflicting emotions as I watched this demonstration. I felt sympathy for the people and their cause, but I also feared them. I felt anxiety and elation.

The curt man said, "Ok!" and turned me around to look in the mirror. He had cut off almost all of my hair. It didn't look that bad, that I can recall now. The color was a very attractive chestnut, and the bangs looked better than any I've ever had. However, I was enraged. I screamed. "Whaaaat haaave you DONE!" I screeched at the stylist. "I have been growing out my hair for two years! I did not tell you to do this!" I was so mad, I was literally spitting. I started swearing. I was a sailor. The stylist started swearing and screaming back at me. After a few minutes of this I ran out the door and started running home. I was sobbing, just like in my last dream. I couldn't stop. Flows of tears coursed down my face.

I burst through the door of my townhouse and my mom was there doing some type of cleaning--maybe sweeping? She looked up at me (I was still crying) and said, "You'd probably better go to bed, don't you think?" And what I understood her to mean by that was, "You are outrageously disappointed with your haircut and are unfit for normal life right now. You'll feel better after you have a nap." I realized she was right so I went to my room, which was already dark with the blinds drawn, and lay down on my bed.

3 comments:

Karen ~ said...

Yikes.

First off, mother always knows best. Take more naps.

Second off, is this the election stressing you? Or the daunting task of buying L a fancy dress? or are you terribly lonely with all 4 kids in school?

Because if your third dream also has you sobbing uncontrollably, I am really going to be worried about you.

Take more naps. Bake some cookies while the kids are away and eat most of them yourself (I'd say go buy yourself some cookies but I know you prefer homemade!!) Read a book that takes you away from everything! Start planning this year's "where I want to move to" strategies. Take care of YOU.

Anonymous said...

Oh my gosh, that dream made me squeal with laughter. Ha Ha Ha, I am still chuckling. If Karen had my dreams of garotting barbie dolls she would be very frightened.
That dream sounds like something from a Neil Giamond book.
ave

Calandria said...

Karen, J just read your comment and he said, "Karen is so nice. She is concerned about you. She wants you to take care of yourself."

Ave, he didn't say anything about your comment. ;-)