The dream that came through (A short story)

My hair got long so that when leaning forward, the curls started to get in my eyes, and I decided to go for a haircut.

"Where are you going?" My wife glanced at me suspiciously.

"In the' Supercuts.'"

"Just make sure you'd get a decent one."

I raised my hands to heaven. "Our Lord is almighty."

"Stop that! Don't let them cut the back of your head like a la rookie. It doesn't suit you."

"Okay, I'll tell Them."

"Not just okay, but tell them to go a finger below your natural hairline."

"Okay, I will."

Indeed, if one person doesn't care and the other does, why not make that person feel good?

I arrived at the hairdresser's and sat in a chair.

"How do I cut your hair today?"

I explained. Remove all the curls, a little shorter from the sides, and leave more on top because I have a broad face. ( I didn't tell the hairdresser about it, but that's how it is.) And especially, I said, pay attention to leaving a finger below the natural hairline at the back. Otherwise, my wife is going to bitch about it. (I certainly didn't say it to the hairdresser as well).

Just between us... It would be nice to shave the back of my head and run my fingers over the stubble. Feels so free in the wind. Those are idle thoughts, though. I didn't let myself get worked up and get upset.

She finished. I looked in the rearview mirror at the hairline - it seemed normal. I gave her a 15% tip – she deserved it.
I drove home wary, though. Hopefully, my wife would like it? What is not?

Things turn out fine, though. She looked around my head and didn't give any shit to the hairdresser. Cool.

At night, I had a bad dream. I explained everything to the hairdresser, just like it was reality. She finished my haircut, held up a rearview mirror to me, and there it was. Instead of leaving my hair below the natural hairline, she shaved the back of my head three fingers above it. Holy shit!

Why in the hell did you shave my head this way? Didn't I ask for it to be a finger lower my natural hairline? You've managed to shave three fingers above it!

No, she said, I've got it right. I've written it down. You asked for it to be three fingers higher than the hairline.
Shit! How could I screw up like that?

So I thought. I'm screwed. I'd have to sleep on the living room couch at night.

Then I woke up, jumped, and tried the hairline at the back of my head. It was okay.

When I was making pancakes and eating them with honey, my wife came into the kitchen and looked at the jar with honey suspiciously.

"What kind of honey did you use?" she showed me the little jar she bought with honeycomb pieces inside. According to her, this honey had some healing action and cost a bundle.

"No. The one I used was in a much larger jar."

"Are you sure about that? I told you not to touch this jar!"

"Sure, I am sure! I can pour honey on pancakes from the large jar. In your little jar, honey got all hardened, and I'd have to scrape it with a fork. Just think about it. It isn't so hard to figure out what a normal person would do."

"Just stop this nonsense! Tell me, did you take honey from my jar or not?"

Nonsense? Shit! Now, it's a matter of principle. I can't back out. I won't allow logic to be trampled in the mud!

"Look, it's soooo simple. I'm lazy. You said it yourself. Right? Why would I work and scrape honey with a fork when I can pour it out in one motion? You gotta use your brain, not your ass!"

Well, I ended up sleeping on a couch in the living room. Whatever. I can tolerate if she'd said some smack about me, but logic - I will not give it up!