Dreams: February 5, 1998

an official haircut

I'm walking through a set of various stores and coffeeshops that are all attached to each other. There are weird pieces of art on the walls. I'm with Nooshi. We are now in a narrow hallway. We stop at a door; it looks like a doctor's office. A middle-aged man comes out wearing a white medical coat. He and Nooshi know each other because he's given her a haircut in the past. I look at her hair, which looks different than usual: it's now short and scraggly, unevenly layered and sticking up/out in some places. They are scheduling an appointment so that he can cut her hair shorter. I'm trying to decide if I want a haircut too. Part of me wants the liberation of really short hair, while I'm also scared that this haircutter would do a poor job. He is looking at his weekly schedule and tells me he can fit me in later this week at 1pm. I'm wavering, trying to decide if I should take the risk.


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