Another recurring dream of mine is getting on the highway (It’s actually 295, a real highway here in New Jersey which means this dream has only been recurring since about the late 1980’s. We used to ride our bikes on the highway before it was opened to traffic.) I have to go somewhere. Last night it was a concert. And where I have to go is usually North. If I have to go South the dream is more ominous. I get on the highway and it is packed with traffic, accidents and construction. Anything to delay me or get in my way. Sometimes I fly over the scene. Other times I drive really fast weaving in and out of obstacles. Last night I had a chauffeur. There were three other passengers in the car. We were very late. The driver backed the car all the way back until we got off of the highway. He took us the way I usually come home, Route 130, which is always very winding and rural in my dreams (it’s not that way in real life.) And we made a two hour trip in forty five minutes.
Last night’s dream suggests I stop doing things in the same old way to struggle to get where I want to be and instead turn things totally around and I’d get there faster and more easily. I could be Freud reincarnated.
I took The MM to my parents yesterday afternoon then went and got my hair cut. My hair was getting very long. I got out of the shower and had the urge to grab it all in one hand and chop it off. I came close to getting the scissors. I knew it was time to seek professional help. I do things to my hair when I get bored or anxious. Once I bought natural Henna to condition my hair. It’s like grass. I mixed it through my hair and piled it on my head. When I rinsed it out I had a big orange spot on top. I have cut my own hair on several occasions. I read where if you lay on the floor and spread your hair out you can trim it yourself. It’s not true. I went to Hair Cuttery this time, right here in town. She did a great job. I will try real hard to go back and maintain my cut. I think it looks cute and my hair feels much better for it. It told me it’s quite happy.
I personify so many inanimate objects. Is that some sort of sign of a mental condition? It allows me to talk to them and they talk back to me. I am the Dr. Doolittle of chairs and plants and toys. I used to do it as a child all of the time. I stopped as I got older because I figured no one else did it. I’ve begun doing it again now that I’m in my fifties because quite frankly I don’t give a shit if no one else does it.
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