I am now convinced my dreams are not meant to make sense. At all.
Last night involved wandering in a hospital, only to bump into Stella’s nonexistent sister (I know she has a sister, but this wasn’t her!), who turned out to be a nurse, or a doctor in said hospital. All fine and dandy, I got a walking tour of the place, and got led to a barbershop. In the hospital. Who runs a barbershop IN a hospital?
It only got more surreal from this point on as I got led by a hairstylist out of the barbershop, up and down escalators into what looked like a section of a mall that’s closed, towards a shop that looked as if it was selling massage chairs. If the shop was open. Which it wasn’t. It was like a facade to another barbershop.
So I got my hair cut. Don’t remember how it was. Not sure I want to remember. The dream goes on to even weirder heights as I step out of that massage-chair-facade place to find an indoor soccer field. With kids.
When I woke up it was really just one of “WTF was that” moments.
I think it’s a sign that I should get a haircut.