Before I forget...
I just had a dream in which women were getting targeted by ninjas. But not any ninjas. Hairstylist ninjas. They would be walking home at night and would suddenly find a knife at their throat and a growly, masculine American accent telling them to sit down and put their hands out to the sides where he can see them and not move. The women comply and suddenly there are two razor-sharp knives slicing their hair into neat, attractive, short styles. They would then see a dark-clad shape vanish off over the rooftop of the nearest residence and they'd be free to move, call the police, etc.
I think I was an undercover cop investigating these strange reports. We suspected the Asian salon which sat beside an Asian-run grounds maintenance company. (With typical dream logic, the salon felt like it was in a large city, and the maintenance company and the two houses next to it felt like they were in a suburb. In waking life, I'm rationalizing this as one of those places where there were three houses that refused to sell their lots to contractors, so there's a little pocket of green lawn and house or two between high-rise apartment/shop buildings on either side.) So I made an appointment at the salon as a meek and timid young housewife to have my hair (which was long and a little split-endy anyway) done.
It was a nice place. The entry emphasized the Asian staff, but they had a sleek, modern waiting area and an interestingly modular salon area. ...Where Lady Gaga was having her hair done. I think I bumped into her, or she into me, and I apologized so quietly and with such a frightened look on my face that she burst out laughing and called me Ice, because I froze up so easily. She was rather bossy and wound up being there the entire time I was in the salon. I think it was she who told them what they should do with my hair, and with my super timid persona I sure wasn't going to tell her no. So I think they wound up washing and trimming my hair and then braiding it into ten thick braids that sort of fell in a radial pattern around my head, and then wound them into this elaborate cap type thing that was so tightly interwoven that it didn't need pins to stay in place. Mostly I remember sitting in traumatized horror while two or three women collaborated with Gaga over my scalp and "Bad Romance" played loudly over the speaker system. I think she even brought in strobing, multi-colored dance floor lights and danced around while consulting. Apparently this was her favorite salon? But this was not exactly normal for them. At any rate, I don't remember paying for it.
The next part I seem to think was that same night, but I think it was also walking back from the hair salon, and I know that didn't take all day, and my hair was not in that elaborate concoction anymore - it was long and lying down my back again. So... bwa? Dream logic, I guess.
But I definitely got jumped by the hair ninja. He gave me a cut long enough to be twisted up if I needed to, but much shorter than my current hairstyle, and shaped it quite nicely. And as he was bounding away, I leaped after him and managed to snag his ankle. He didn't try to cut me or anything. Just struggled and kicked and did some martial arts. I'm sure it would have been very cinematic if it hadn't been from my viewpoint. Ninja in black doing martial arts to try and get away from a woman in a torn skirt who was returning and blocking his blows, mostly. Finally I think I managed to get across to him that I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted to figure out what was going on, and we stopped fighting. (My hair still looked marvelous.)
Turned out that he was both the secret manager of the hair salon and the main contractor for the maintenance company. We wound up walking y his show house and having breakfast with his wife in his kitchen, and there was some sort of awesome Rube Goldburg machine having to do with his show house for his company, and I think he just couldn't stand women not taking care of their hair or something. He never would have hurt them, but he couldn't exactly tell them to stop and for the love of little chickens let him cut their hair. And all his family were secret ninjas. It was awesome.
I think I was an undercover cop investigating these strange reports. We suspected the Asian salon which sat beside an Asian-run grounds maintenance company. (With typical dream logic, the salon felt like it was in a large city, and the maintenance company and the two houses next to it felt like they were in a suburb. In waking life, I'm rationalizing this as one of those places where there were three houses that refused to sell their lots to contractors, so there's a little pocket of green lawn and house or two between high-rise apartment/shop buildings on either side.) So I made an appointment at the salon as a meek and timid young housewife to have my hair (which was long and a little split-endy anyway) done.
It was a nice place. The entry emphasized the Asian staff, but they had a sleek, modern waiting area and an interestingly modular salon area. ...Where Lady Gaga was having her hair done. I think I bumped into her, or she into me, and I apologized so quietly and with such a frightened look on my face that she burst out laughing and called me Ice, because I froze up so easily. She was rather bossy and wound up being there the entire time I was in the salon. I think it was she who told them what they should do with my hair, and with my super timid persona I sure wasn't going to tell her no. So I think they wound up washing and trimming my hair and then braiding it into ten thick braids that sort of fell in a radial pattern around my head, and then wound them into this elaborate cap type thing that was so tightly interwoven that it didn't need pins to stay in place. Mostly I remember sitting in traumatized horror while two or three women collaborated with Gaga over my scalp and "Bad Romance" played loudly over the speaker system. I think she even brought in strobing, multi-colored dance floor lights and danced around while consulting. Apparently this was her favorite salon? But this was not exactly normal for them. At any rate, I don't remember paying for it.
The next part I seem to think was that same night, but I think it was also walking back from the hair salon, and I know that didn't take all day, and my hair was not in that elaborate concoction anymore - it was long and lying down my back again. So... bwa? Dream logic, I guess.
But I definitely got jumped by the hair ninja. He gave me a cut long enough to be twisted up if I needed to, but much shorter than my current hairstyle, and shaped it quite nicely. And as he was bounding away, I leaped after him and managed to snag his ankle. He didn't try to cut me or anything. Just struggled and kicked and did some martial arts. I'm sure it would have been very cinematic if it hadn't been from my viewpoint. Ninja in black doing martial arts to try and get away from a woman in a torn skirt who was returning and blocking his blows, mostly. Finally I think I managed to get across to him that I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted to figure out what was going on, and we stopped fighting. (My hair still looked marvelous.)
Turned out that he was both the secret manager of the hair salon and the main contractor for the maintenance company. We wound up walking y his show house and having breakfast with his wife in his kitchen, and there was some sort of awesome Rube Goldburg machine having to do with his show house for his company, and I think he just couldn't stand women not taking care of their hair or something. He never would have hurt them, but he couldn't exactly tell them to stop and for the love of little chickens let him cut their hair. And all his family were secret ninjas. It was awesome.