I don’t dream much. But tonight’s will stick with me for a long time to come.
I was given a choice at work between the recently departed boss and the current one. You can have either, they said.
I said, neither, in the dream.
As the choice was repeated (because I’m feeling unheard these days), the recently departed one was somehow messing with my hair. Something he’d never do and frankly the thing I loved most about him is I got to do all my volumes of work in peace.
And for the record, no one touches my hair, speaks of it or even acknowledges it. Unless they want to meet an untimely end.
That part of the dream was particularly weird because it’s the current one who keeps an eye on what we’re wearing. (My getting sent home must have opened that up.) And even said the thing I had in my hair on Friday was reminiscent of the ’60s.
What did I say about my hair?
I picked the first one.