weirdest dream ever?
So this dream has me and my mom shopping at a mall, not too strange at first. I stop at like a Fantastic Sam's for a haircut...also not weird, as many malls have this type of salon.
The guy who cuts my hair is a metro Spainard. I figure this is okay, because hey--metro guys know what looks good. It quickly progresses into weirdness when I realize he can speak no English. I understand him, for some reason, but he seems to get NOTHING that I am saying.
So the haircut begins by him shaving the bottom part of my beard...nothing except the bottom of my chin, above my neck. Weird, right...but whatever, it's a dream. Then he proceeds to buzz cutt the sides of my head. I am used to this, only MOST people continue around to the back and do some sort of blending. No, this Maniacal Spainard just buzzed the sides.
After this, he got a lunch bag. You know the brown paper sacks you carry your lunch in? Like that, only bright yellow. He rolled it just as you would when carrying a lunch, then attached it to the top of my head with a rubber band before declaring my haircut finished.
Of course, I was not really pleased with this and asked him what on EARTH was going on. He still didn't understand me, but pointed to a picture of Conan O'Brien, whom he then blew a kiss towards.
I figure I'll just pay and come back tomorrow (when he hopefully isn't around) to get it touched up. When I go to the register he rips the left sleeve off of my shirt and demands to know where the scar on my shoulder came from. He tells me that he hopes I badly bloodied whomever attacked me. As I was trying to figure out how to explain to this (quite obviously) insane man that the scar was from a bike accident, I woke up.
I have never been so happy to wake from a dream...as I said, weirdest ever.
In other news, moving to Lake Orion on Friday. If you are in the A2 area, this is kinda it for reckless hanging out. If not, hopefully I can see you soon. The summer is wide open, as long as I can find a job between now and August.
Take care, all!
The guy who cuts my hair is a metro Spainard. I figure this is okay, because hey--metro guys know what looks good. It quickly progresses into weirdness when I realize he can speak no English. I understand him, for some reason, but he seems to get NOTHING that I am saying.
So the haircut begins by him shaving the bottom part of my beard...nothing except the bottom of my chin, above my neck. Weird, right...but whatever, it's a dream. Then he proceeds to buzz cutt the sides of my head. I am used to this, only MOST people continue around to the back and do some sort of blending. No, this Maniacal Spainard just buzzed the sides.
After this, he got a lunch bag. You know the brown paper sacks you carry your lunch in? Like that, only bright yellow. He rolled it just as you would when carrying a lunch, then attached it to the top of my head with a rubber band before declaring my haircut finished.
Of course, I was not really pleased with this and asked him what on EARTH was going on. He still didn't understand me, but pointed to a picture of Conan O'Brien, whom he then blew a kiss towards.
I figure I'll just pay and come back tomorrow (when he hopefully isn't around) to get it touched up. When I go to the register he rips the left sleeve off of my shirt and demands to know where the scar on my shoulder came from. He tells me that he hopes I badly bloodied whomever attacked me. As I was trying to figure out how to explain to this (quite obviously) insane man that the scar was from a bike accident, I woke up.
I have never been so happy to wake from a dream...as I said, weirdest ever.
In other news, moving to Lake Orion on Friday. If you are in the A2 area, this is kinda it for reckless hanging out. If not, hopefully I can see you soon. The summer is wide open, as long as I can find a job between now and August.
Take care, all!