Dreaming Is Free by HeadBoy
A cold breeze blew in the window. The night air had a crisp, un-California like bite to it. JoHanna pulled the blanket up higher to shield from the cold, but to no avail. Finally, she succumbed, got out of bed and went to shut the window.
She looked out from her second floor bedroom and saw something. What, she had no idea. It spoke in a whisper, in a calm, near silent voice. “If you shave it,” the voice said, “He will come.”
JoHanna shook her head, figured she was still dreaming, and headed back to her fuzzy blanket after she closed the window.
In her dream, she saw an enormous pair of scissors, points in the ground to form an arch that she was being pulled through. She didn’t want to walk through, but felt powerless to fight it. It was a dream, after all, and JoHanna had always enjoyed going along with dreams to see where they’d take her. This one took her to an oversized barber’s chair, where dozens of dwarves sat her down, draped a cape over her shoulders and around her neck and brushed her hair over and over. One of the short people brought a full-length mirror to stand in front of the chair.
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JoHanna liked the feeling of having her red tresses combed and brushed. It was relaxing and made shine and bounce come to her hair that wasn’t usually there without massive effort. One of the little people whispered in her ear, “do it.”
Do it, indeed. A snarling pair of clippers ate away at her red hair, cutting it all away in one swipe. The dream turned dark, the dwarves disappeared and were replaced by a pack of barking dogs. “Do it!” they snarled. JoHanna looked at herself in the full-length mirror, and saw her bald skull glinting back at her. She looked down around the oversized chair, and the pack of wild animals had disappeared. She shot upright in bed, awake from her dream.
She ran into the bathroom, afraid to feel her head. She flicked on the light and saw her hair still in place. Tangled from tossing and turning, but still on her head. Still replete with auburn highlights and slight waves toward the end. “Stupid dream,” she said, getting a drink and heading back to bed.
The next night, it happened again. A cold breeze blew in the window once more. The night air had a crisp bite to it. JoHanna pulled the blanket up higher to shield from the cold, but to no avail. Finally, she succumbed to the chill and got out of bed and went to shut the window.
She looked out from her second floor bedroom and saw something. What, she still had no idea. It spoke in a whisper, in a calm, near silent voice. “If you shave it,” the voice said, “He will come.”
She turned to go back to bed, but she was not in her room any longer; she was lost in another dream. The open scissors were again her gateway that she had to walk through. She touched one side of them as she walked through, they were razor sharp. She looked around, she was walking on clouds. She walked until she got to a stool in the middle of nowhere.
A sweet-faced girl approached, she was smiling as she skipped rope. JoHanna remembered the joys of jump rope as a kid. She noticed that the girl was her when she was a child – “Dreams,” she said to herself, knowing full well that she was fairly powerless to stop it, so she just enjoyed the view. The little girl didn’t seem to notice JoHanna, she kept on going right by without breaking her rhythm. JoHanna turned her head to watch her fade into the horizon, when she turned back around she saw her stylist, standing in front of her, inside her salon.
“Time for a trim, sweetheart?” the stylist said, in her typical tone she’d use if JoHanna were awake.
“Absolutely,” JoHanna said, “the usual, okay?”
“Not a problem.”
JoHanna’s head was lowered into the shampoo sink, and the stylist sprayed water on her full, thick red hair. The massaging fingers, even dream fingers, were therapy for JoHanna. The shampoo tingled, and seemed to take forever for the stylist to rinse out.
“All done, what do you think?” the stylist asked as she raised the back of the chair and patted JoHanna’s head with a towel. The towel came off, and JoHanna looked into the mirror again… her hair was gone. Shampooed into oblivion by her trusted stylist. She had felt so relaxed a moment earlier; relaxed and unsuspecting. Now, for the second night in a row, her long hair had been taken from her in her dream and shocked her into consciousness.
JoHanna sat up in bed, sweating even though it was cool in the room. The clock on her nightstand said 3:07, she did not want to go back to sleep.
She wandered downstairs to the kitchen, stopping by the bathroom mirror briefly to check her head and be reassured that her hair was still present and correct. She sat at her table, waiting for her tea kettle to boil, looking at the day’s mail. Bills, junk, and a letter from her Aunt Paula. She read the letter from her Aunt – something she always looked forward to getting. Aunt Paula was a tender, loving woman who raised JoHanna when her parents decided to take a world cruise when JoHanna was 12. They never returned. They got to Fiji and liked it. And stayed.
JoHanna poured herself a cup of tea, and got lost in stirring it around in the quiet early morning stillness. She sat for nearly two hours before getting up to shower for work. She nearly laughed when she caught herself reaching for the shampoo bottle. “Not today,” she said.
That night, JoHanna fell asleep on the sofa, watching television. She woke up around midnight and sluggishly walked upstairs. A cold breeze blew in the window. The night air had a crisp, un-California like bite to it once more. JoHanna walked up the stairs and thought of crawling into her cozy bed and pulling the blanket up high to shield from the cold. She paused by the window to shut it, when she looked out from the second floor window, she saw the same thing she’d seen the two previous nights. It spoke in a whisper, in a calm, near silent voice. “If you shave it,” the voice said, “He will come.”
“I’ve got to remember to shut the damn window before bedtime,” she said to herself.
She noticed that as she shut the window, she was already in bed, already lost in yet another dream. This one had no puffy clouds, no Fellini-esque short people urging her on, no images of her as a kid, nothing in fact. All that was there was the scissors, again. She walked under them, resigned to her dream fate again. She walked for miles it seemed, still she found nothing. The feeling under her feet was soothing though, the grass was soft and lush. She looked down to see her bare feet squishing the grass between her toes to find it was not grass at all – it was miles of auburn-tinted hair. Strands of red wove in and out of the auburn, bits of dark brown and chestnut did too. It went on for miles, it was soft and mountainous in parts. JoHanna reached up to touch her head… nothing. Nothing but smooth, supple baldness. She heard a noise. She turned to look behind her, a full-length mirror was, again, there to show her how she looked as a hairless woman. She did not bolt upright in bed this time, she stood there and looked upon herself, bald and wearing a flowing nightgown.
She enjoyed the feeling of the tight, soft skin on her head. She looked at the flowing nightgown, a thing she’d never wear, opting instead for flannel pajama tops and nothing else, and said, “It’s just a dream, might as well enjoy.”
The alarm shocked her awake. It was 6:45 and time to get ready for work. She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, looked in the mirror above the sink. Her hair, still there, still rumpled and knotted from tossing in bed, was in plain view. JoHanna laughed and tousled it with one hand as she listened to the radio and brushed away at her white, straight teeth.
She headed off to work, humming along with the music, figuring she’d just sleep through these silly dreams and enjoy them for what they are. “But what are they?” she thought. “Ahh, who cares?”
That night, JoHanna closed the window tight, figuring that if she couldn’t stop the dreams, at least she could stop being cold in the middle of the night. She curled up, under her blanket, closed her eyes and knew what was coming.
A rapping on the window woke her. It was the same dream-like trance she’d been in for the past few nights. It was the voice. “If you shave it, he will come.” It said this over and over again.
“Who is he?” she asked. No answer, but when she turned to go back to bed, no surprise to JoHanna, it was gone.
She found herself walking up the isles at Target, stopping at the electric clippers. She reached for a colorful pack, an Oster with a set of guards and pictures of a happy, well-groomed, family on the package. “These’ll do,” she said. JoHanna pulled them out of the packaging, letting the guards fall to the ground – she would not need them.
With a pop, the Osters came to life. JoHanna plunged them into her hairline, feeling them clipper away at her glorious head of red hair. It was gone in ten swipes. Clean and smooth, she felt her skull, and moaned at its pleasure. She loved it and rubbed it again. She turned to see the mirror again… Her hair was still in place this time. JoHanna did not like what she saw. She could not find her clippers that she’d just opened. They were gone. She pulled another set off the shelf, tore them open and began shaving again. Plunging them right down the middle of her thick head of hair. Pass after pass reduced her head to a bald pate of glistening, touchably soft, skin. “That’s better,” she said and she turned to put the clippers down so she could rub her scalp with two hands.
Again, she saw herself with a full head of hair when she turned back around to the mirror. “This just won’t do,” she said, now feeling a fervent tug at her inside to rid herself of the ample hair on her head. JoHanna felt a need to rub her scalp. She wanted to. She had to. She must. She turned to grab another set of Osters to do the job, but instead found herself standing underneath the giant scissors, walking out of them away from her dream.
The voice, again, said, “If you shave it, he will come.”
“I’ve had just about enough of this.”
Again, the voice said, “If you shave it, he will come.”
“Just who are you?” JoHanna asked, clearly annoyed.
The alarm clock woke her with a start. It was Saturday, and she’d set the alarm clock by accident the night before.
“Damn,” JoHanna said to herself, “what is it with my head?” She got up and wandered across the bedroom, the sound of her slippers dragged on the hardwood floors of her bedroom. Into the bathroom she went, over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair, all of it was still there – all bed-head tangles and knots.
She spent a good twenty minutes combing through it to get the knots out, wincing at the tugging feeling and rubbing her scalp to ease the pain. JoHanna loved the way her fingertips felt on her scalp, she’d never noticed the way it felt so soothing before. Downstairs she went, grabbing the morning paper off the porch and waltzing up to the breakfast table to enjoy a leisurely morning cup of tea and a session of catch-up with world events.
She spent the day watching television, pausing on the Sci Fi network long enough to watch the first Star Trek movie. An actress on screen shocked her out of her sofa lounge/stupor. JoHanna was stunned by how beautiful a bald woman could look. “If you shave it, he will come,” wafted through her mind again.
“I have got to get a roommate,” she said, climbing the stairs to her bedroom to get dressed. “I need to get out of here.”
She sat on the bed to pull on her jeans. As she laid back to pull them on, she hesitated, enjoying the comfort of her soft bed. Before too long, she was asleep again.
Behind the scissors in her dream were a pair of combs, crossed at the top and buried into the ground making a second arch, again, JoHanna was powerless to resist walking through. After those was a humming sound. She looked down to see miles of Oster clippers buzzing beneath her feet. She kept walking to see an oversized barber’s chair again. “If you shave it, he will come,” again. She walked closer to the chair. “If you shave it, he will come,” she heard. She sat in it, powerless to resist. “If you shave it, he will come,” was the only sound now. “If you shave it, he will come,” the voice said again. She felt a cape around her neck. “If you shave it, he will come,” grew louder in her ears. She felt a tingle down her spine. She wanted to be shaved, she couldn’t resist. “If you shave it, he will come,” said the voice.
JoHanna looked at the mirror in front of her, swallowed hard… “Do it,” she said. And clippers plunged through her head of hair again and again. This time she saw each swipe. She felt the tingle and tickle. She felt the warmth of the blades as they bit away toward her scalp. She felt the massage of a thousand fingers, rubbing gently about her temples. A warm towel was wrapped around her head. She felt the lather go on, a menthol scent of pure pleasure. She felt the first scrape of the straight razor across her head. The red stubble disappeared and left a flesh-colored path on her skull. JoHanna smiled. The razor finished off the job, and she felt the thousand fingers rub lotion into her scalp. The ecstasy she felt shocked her awake.
The clock at her bedside said 3:00, the day was still young enough to do something. She phoned three or four friends, but nobody was home. She left the house to walk to the market. On her way up the street, she saw some workmen hanging a banner above a new salon. “Grand Opening” stood, big as life above the doorway. A doorway that was an inverted pair of scissors, just like in her dream.
“This is too weird,” she said, walking across the street to take a closer look. She looked through the window to see all the latest in posh salon features. Brilliant colored walls, low-back chairs and a very fashion-forward looking staff. JoHanna looked at her reflection in the glass. She was tired of her hair.
The door opened under the scissors, a friendly face greeted her. “Come on in, we’re open.”
JoHanna’s head began to spin. She knew she needed a trim. She wondered to herself if she wanted more. The last few days had put so many thoughts in her head, she didn’t know anymore. “If you shave it, he will come,” the voice said. JoHanna tried to shake it off and clear her thoughts. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and lead her in. The friendly face was escorting her by the arm into the new salon.
She looked around as she sat in the waiting area’s comfy chairs. She looked through a magazine to look at style ideas. “If you shave it, he will come,” came the voice again.
“Just exactly who is it that will show up?” she asked herself. No answer.
The friendly face called out, “JoHanna. You’re next.”
She stood up and walked over to meet her stylist. The voice danced through her head again. “If you shave it, he will come.”
“Just exactly who is it that will show up?” she asked. Again, no answer.
“What would you like us to do today?” the stylist asked.
JoHanna looked around the stylist’s work station for a few seconds. Her eyes stuck on a pair of Oster clippers. Visions of the last few nights’ dreams ran through her head. “Just exactly who is it that will show up? Huh? If I shave my head, who is coming?” she asked herself. Nothing in reply.
“I don’t need an answer,” she thought to herself.
“How would you like your hair cut today Miss?” the stylist asked again.
“With those,” JoHanna said, pointing toward the Osters. Her mind was made up.
The stylist looked where she was pointing. “Are you sure? Isn’t that kind of drastic?”
“Yes it is, but I’m sure,” JoHanna said back. “All of it. Off. Gone. I want to be completely bald.”
“We aim to please,” the stylist said, removing the guard to her Osters and popping them to life.
JoHanna was wide awake and she knew it. She had no idea why she was doing this, she just knew she had to for some reason.
The clippers plowed through the center of her red hair. Two swipes for each row mowed away a lifetime of hair and left uneven patches of stubble in its wake. Up the sides and up from behind the clippers roared away. JoHanna smiled, thrilled with the feeling of her hair being clippered away. It wasn’t long before all of her luscious hair was now stubble. A sandpaper feel on her head was not what JoHanna wanted. She liked the fuzzy, coarse feel, but wanted smooth and tender.
“Well,” the stylist said, “that’s as much as I can do, I’m just an assistant to the stylist. He’ll be right with you to finish up. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No,” JoHanna said with a grin, “I’m fine thanks.”
A warm towel was wrapped around her skull to maximize the coming shave.
“Sorry I can’t do this for you myself, but I’m not certified to use a straight razor,” the stylist said as she walked away.
JoHanna heard a familiar voice, the one she’d been hearing for so many nights leading to this moment. It was the voice she’d heard, only this time it belonged to the shop’s owner. He was tall, and ruggedly handsome. In short, he was JoHanna’s dream man.
“I’ve come to finish cleaning you up,” he said, in a voice JoHanna knew well by now.
As his fingers massaged in the shaving cream, he introduced himself to JoHanna. The two began to flirt and connect. They could tell that it was love at first sight. As he gently scraped away the cream to reveal her naked, smooth scalp, JoHanna moaned approvingly. His strokes were sure, short, even and complete.
It was a feeling JoHanna would grow used to in the coming years. He would wake her up each morning with a cup of hot tea, a kiss on the skull and a close shave while she sat on his lap, looking into his eyes. She would love every minute of it.
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