Lions and Tigers and Hair…

My first instinct was to continue that thought and add the obvious “Oh, My!” but that would merely add a lame cherry to the top of the already lame title.

So I resisted.

It’s part of my new Say-No-To-Temptation-Self-Improvment-Program.  It’s only taken me fifty plus years to learn that giving in to everything you want can often lead to unpleasant consequences. But that’s another story and it involves admitting to a previously hedonistic youth that I’m not ready to admit just yet.

What this story is about is how I judge a good night’s sleep.

It’s all about the hair and what it looks like in the morning.

Crazy morning hair equals a good night’s sleep in The World According To Me. But along with aforementioned good night’s sleep comes the crazy nighttime dreams that I have to endure in order to get the much sought-after crazy morning hair. I guess it’s a yin and yang kind of thing.  Or, translated into the American vernacular:  you-can’t-have-the-sane-without-the-crazy rule.

And the dream that came with my crazy morning hair this week was about lions. Not the kind of lion dream that involved Romans and Christians and Nero blaming them for burning Rome to the ground. But rather a lion being paraded on a leash through an otherwise “normal” dream by some guy I didn’t know.

[Normal, of course, being relative as it relates to me and my dreams.]

I know that dreams have meaning so off I went to get an answer from the World Wide Weird as I often do when I want to a completely accurate, objective answer to some of life’s most pressing questions.

This is the answer I’m going with:

For a woman to dream that she sees Daniel in the lions’ den, signifies that by her intellectual qualifications and personal magnetism she will win fortune and lovers to her highest desire. 

Okay… so I don’t know if it was Daniel or whether or not we were in his den but whatever. I rarely let details get in the way of enlightenment.

But I digress.  We were talking about hair, right?

Right.

Hair.

 

 

 

The Nirvana Chronicles – Day Two

Martinis at the beach at sunset.

A chiseled Hawaiian dressed only in a sarong and tribal tattoos lights torches along the sand.

Another martini [or two] under the stars.

We stagger back to our room and fall into bed.

I  dreamed about a little girl who wanted to sing me a song she’d written. The lyrics made me cry and I wondered how on earth such a young girl could be so soulful. I vowed to remember the words when I woke up.

But I can’t.

A woman told me how easily I tan.

I don’t… but I believed her anyway.

The rest of the dream was fractured and strange yet oddly beautiful.  There was something about a wedding. The bride was spectacular and her entourage was dressed in full Victorian garb and they were running in super slow-motion through a lush grove of trees.

I told them they shouldn’t be in such a hurry.