Dreams

I had an unexpectedly vivid dream this morning. Maybe it's strange to consider dreams as unexpected, but it's the first one I recall having in months. Truly, I am a soulless automaton without dreams or ambition.

I dreamt I was looking at my head in the bathroom mirror. Half my head was suddenly bald, a fact I'd failed to notice because I'd been combing my foot-long hair over the gap only now inhabited by scabrous flesh. I suppose my lack of an enormous mullet in my waking hours should have alerted me to this being a dream, but I was asleep, after all. That's not the best mental state within which to make decisions about verisimilitude.

I was very upset to be ambushed by the aging process like this, so I cried out to my girlfriend to look at it. And when she came to the bathroom, my hair was back to normal, but with me screaming in anguish "I've gone bald! Baaaalllld!"

And then I woke up.

I wonder what this means. Perhaps somebody out there has a dictionary of dreams with handy explanations: all your teeth fall out means you should visit the dentist, dreaming you're eating a giant marshmallow means you'll soon be in the market for a new pillow, and so on.

I'm surprised that I had a dream though. Perhaps it's because I switched my alarm off and had another hour's sleep: maybe my subconscious mind was screaming at me, that if I don't get up and go to the office I'll lose my job and have to make a living by selling my hair.
Two further realisations came to me on the MTR this morning. Firstly, lovely though the Magnetic Fields are to listen to, they don't lift your spirits after an inexplicably terrifying baldness dream. Secondly, missionaries are getting younger. Is the appearance on the morning commute of Mormons with acne a sign of my rapidly approaching senescence?