Hairdreams
I started shaving my head when I was twenty-two. I'm in my thirties now. Over the years, I've begun having dreams in which I have hair - lots of hair. Following is my all-time favorite...
I dreamed that I was at work. The finance manager, Teresa, walked up to me, looking quite harried. She complimented me on my hard work during the recent company-wide software conversion.
I thanked her, but her disheveled appearance made me suddenly paranoid about my own. Do I look that bad? I quickly excused myself and went to the bathroom.
I stared into the mirror and examined my shoulder-length hair. I smiled, feeling quite pleased at the sight of my (obviously expensive) dark brown and red dye job, with bleach-blonde tips.
I picked up a large silver hairbrush which had been sitting on the counter, and began to brush my hair. With each stroke of the brush, my hair did exactly what I wanted it to. In fact, my hair even exceeded my expectations as I continued to brush it. In only a few moments of brushing, I looked utterly fabulous!
I turned to leave, but on second thought, decided to brush the hair on the left side of my head just a couple more times. To my amazement, my hairdo transformed into a three-foot tall, spiraling, shiny spiked hair sculpture.
I stared at the fantastic visage of myself in the mirror and realized that I looked just like Joan Collins (but with an elaborate, three-foot high sculpted hairdo).
I stepped out of the bathroom and stood in glory as everyone at work commented on how stunnning my hair looked. "Where did you have it done?" they asked.
And I told them, with great satisfaction, "I just went into the bathroom and brushed it!"
I dreamed that I was at work. The finance manager, Teresa, walked up to me, looking quite harried. She complimented me on my hard work during the recent company-wide software conversion.
I thanked her, but her disheveled appearance made me suddenly paranoid about my own. Do I look that bad? I quickly excused myself and went to the bathroom.
I stared into the mirror and examined my shoulder-length hair. I smiled, feeling quite pleased at the sight of my (obviously expensive) dark brown and red dye job, with bleach-blonde tips.
I picked up a large silver hairbrush which had been sitting on the counter, and began to brush my hair. With each stroke of the brush, my hair did exactly what I wanted it to. In fact, my hair even exceeded my expectations as I continued to brush it. In only a few moments of brushing, I looked utterly fabulous!
I turned to leave, but on second thought, decided to brush the hair on the left side of my head just a couple more times. To my amazement, my hairdo transformed into a three-foot tall, spiraling, shiny spiked hair sculpture.
I stared at the fantastic visage of myself in the mirror and realized that I looked just like Joan Collins (but with an elaborate, three-foot high sculpted hairdo).
I stepped out of the bathroom and stood in glory as everyone at work commented on how stunnning my hair looked. "Where did you have it done?" they asked.
And I told them, with great satisfaction, "I just went into the bathroom and brushed it!"
1 Comments:
Man, that photo is an instant classic.
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