i dreamt i was in an oversized victorian house. where each room had a different theme depending on how the visitor was feeling. black walls, tiled floors to chipped cream and woodwork. it was a salon for hair.
i needed a change. again. as if the hairs on our head should mean anything at all. samson wouldn’t question our theories. i sat in a chair that moved up and down with ease. the room filled with people and opinions. i wondered if it was my hair i wanted to change.
as the building started to burn i was the only one left remaining. i woke to rain.