Sunday, June 03, 2007


I've been meaning to get a haircut for quite some time. Like, a year. My subconscious must be getting in on the action, since I had a dream about getting a haircut last night. It was at a place in Reno that I had gone to once, fancy shmance and a bit full of themselves as those kinds of hair salons can be. I got a good cut, but had a bad experience with them later. But in my dream, I was there at opening at the place was a mess. Not all the lights were working, chairs scattered everywhere, people still setting up for the day.

My hairdresser was a stylish older man, flamboyant and a bit rotund in a teddy bear way. He was confident and excited about his "vision," even when it clearly conflicted with everything the client wanted, though he was sensitive to their feelings. My hairstylist was Frank from Trading Spaces.

In the dream, my haircut wasn't exactly what I wanted, but considering who was cutting it, I guess it was miraculous I didn't end up with a shaved head painted with a chic country scene.

I guess I should call the hair place tomorrow and hope Frank isn't working.

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