I Dreamed Some Dreams...

I know that we have already discussed, in depth, my reoccurring back-to-school-dream. You know the one I am talking about, right? The dream I have around the first of August every year? The dream wherein there are kidlets in my classroom, but I have no class lists or lessons plans and I am frantically trying to make my way to the work room to make copies without anyone from the office seeing that I am frantically trying to make my way to the workroom to make copies when I should be in my classroom with the kidlets whose names I don't know, teaching a lesson plan that doesn't exist?

Yes, THAT back-to-school-dream.
See, I KNEW you remembered it.

Well, THAT reoccurring dream (and the staggering amount of psychoses of which it is indicative) is not the topic for this post.

Neither is my OTHER reoccurring dream, the really realistic one wherein I suddenly remember that I have a dog and, after trying for several minutes to remember where that dog is, figure out that I put the dog in my guestroom, like, two months ago without any food or water. This particular dream is so realistic that I have, on more than one occasion, woken up in a state of panic and actually gotten out of bed, walked to my guest room, and gone inside fully expecting to find a deceased canine near the closet. Then I stand there, in my jim-jams, for several guilt-riddled seconds before I realize I don't have a dog. It has happened on several occasions and has been extremely upsetting for me... and even more so for my neighbors considering I have had this dream for several years but it is only recently that I actually acquired an apartment with a guestroom.

Then there was this other dream that I had two weeks ago. Actually, NIGHTMARE would probably be a better word for it. I dreamed that, after decimating the school budget over the past few years, the state legislature voted to outlaw education all together. Then, because that wasn't enough crazy for one dream, the people in my part of the state starting burning teachers at the stake. It was a very intense dream that thankfully has NOT reoccurred...possibly because I stopped reading the local newspapers and started self-medicating with Cadbury Mini Eggs.

But this post isn't about any of those panic-inducing dreams.

This post is actually about a pleasant dream I had over spring break while I was sharing a room with my six-year-old-future-hairdresser/cheerleading coach niece, Ruby. I dreamed that, after a few years of having short, faux-hawk length hair cuts, my hair had suddenly grown long enough for me to put it in little ponytails. My dream ponytails were cute and I woke up happy.

And I decided it was a sign.

So today, after sitting through a painfully long and depressing training about what to do if there is an active shooter in the building (in case you are wondering, the correct answer is" try not to get shot"), I went to get a new hair style.

When I plopped down in the chair to get my hair cut, I deviated from my usual request that she, "Cut it all off!" and asked McKenzie to cut my hair in such a way as to allow me to grow it out to ponytail length without looking like Billy Rae Cyrus's mullet-loving cousin, Milly Raelene.

McKenzie, after teasing me about the near-mullet I was rocking when I walked in, worked her magic and gave me a cut that should allow me to retain some amount of cuteness while I wait for my hair to reach minimum ponytail length.

 

 

Then I gave McKenzie a hug, wrote her a check, and set up an appointment for mid-June...which is about the time I will decide I like shorter hair better and ask her to chop it all off again.

 

So, as I prepare to hop in bed tonight, I am hoping that my sleep will be graced by more happy cute hair dreams because, if I end up dreaming about active shooters in my guestroom holding my dog hostage until I make copies of my class syllabus for everyone who voted to ban education, my hair might start falling out on its own.