Weird dream #496. This one seems more pandemic-related, like everything these days. I had a hair appointment AT LAST, after nearly a year of cutting my own hair. But even though I had been going there for fifteen years, I couldn’t seem to find the salon. “Someone” pointed and said, “You have to walk that way.” Stretched out in front of me, I saw a long, long foot bridge – almost a rope bridge – suspended over a flooded area. Half the bridge was underwater, and I said, “I can’t walk over that!” “Someone” said, “This IS the bayou,” as if I was being silly and demanding. I kept thinking of Hurricane Katrina and wondering how it could have come here. Then “someone else” (looked like a nurse!) told me, “Oh for heaven’s sake, THAT’S not how you get there!” Then I was on a boat. I thought “water taxi?” (thinking of Venice), but it was more like a small pleasure craft. We zoomed along on choppy waters for a long time. Then I realized we were going nowhere. I woke up, got out the razor comb, and trimmed my own hair. AGAIN.
