Effects of Stress (and lack of sleep)
This morning at class the professor had playing on the projecter a series of cartoons of a rabbit with various reactions to stress. Anger, cold sweat, dialated pupels, weird dreams, all were represented. When the picture of the rabbit having a wacked out dream popped up, it made me remember the dream that I had last night that I would have forgotten otherwise.
Amongst many other highlights of the dream, the presiding theme was that, after being on the road with a number of people on a beautiful sunny spring day, we pulled the car over to what appeard to be a house. Rather, it was one of those house-type buildings that were made into a business. Somehow I knew that it was a barber shop, and I went inside with the intention of getting my hair cut. I sat down in the chair with the sheet around my neck and they began cutting. I say they, because there were three barbers present. They were each working on my head. They worked in harmony and did an expediant and an excellant job. Halfway through the job, I realized that my three barbers were gay. I was getting my hair cut by three gay barbers. I don't know how I knew. Maybe it was their pink aprons. It didn't make much difference to me. I was so preoccupied with this thought that I failed to tell the three not to cut the hair on the back of my head, as I was growing it out for a mullet. When they finished I looked into the mirror and, to my suprise, I learned that not only did my hair look incredible, but they didn't even touch the hair on the back of my head. They were perfect! My hair was perfect! I was so eccstatic that I vowed that if I was ever to get my hair done, it would always be with the three gay barbers.
If this is stress, I think I like it.
Amongst many other highlights of the dream, the presiding theme was that, after being on the road with a number of people on a beautiful sunny spring day, we pulled the car over to what appeard to be a house. Rather, it was one of those house-type buildings that were made into a business. Somehow I knew that it was a barber shop, and I went inside with the intention of getting my hair cut. I sat down in the chair with the sheet around my neck and they began cutting. I say they, because there were three barbers present. They were each working on my head. They worked in harmony and did an expediant and an excellant job. Halfway through the job, I realized that my three barbers were gay. I was getting my hair cut by three gay barbers. I don't know how I knew. Maybe it was their pink aprons. It didn't make much difference to me. I was so preoccupied with this thought that I failed to tell the three not to cut the hair on the back of my head, as I was growing it out for a mullet. When they finished I looked into the mirror and, to my suprise, I learned that not only did my hair look incredible, but they didn't even touch the hair on the back of my head. They were perfect! My hair was perfect! I was so eccstatic that I vowed that if I was ever to get my hair done, it would always be with the three gay barbers.
If this is stress, I think I like it.
posted by Cyphoid at 6:52 AM
3 Comments:
Andrew. Gay barbers? Really. They would NEVER give a mullet to somebody intentionally. They would argue with you to the death over a mullet. Your brain is telling you major falsehoods!
i disagree, im sure they loved the mullet!!
Hahahaha!!
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