If only this was all just a bad dream......
Before I hit the pillow, I was talking to Sean about my flat iron. Yes, my flat iron. Poor Sean. I was telling him that I didn't remember turning it off at work. It was actually stressing me out, and I think I may of had a little anxiety attack. I kept thinking worst case scenarios, which was no good while trying to fall asleep.
We prayed together and then I prayed, like a primary child (very specific, lengthy, and repetitive), about my flat iron. I was asking things like 'please let it short out', 'please let the cleaners go directly to my flat iron and know to turn it off', 'please don't let my boss know what I have done', and so on. My prayer was LONG and mainly just about my flat iron, the salon, and fire prevention.
Finally I drifted off to sleep.
4 a.m. came along, and I woke up sweating profusely and shaking. Sean had his arm around me and it was drenched with my sweat. He woke up as I sat straight up in a panic. Still half asleep, he asked me what was going on. I told him that I had a nightmare about the salon. In my dream my flat iron sparked and started a fire. The fire then spread throughout the salon and up into the apartments above the salon. The firemen came and found that it was my flat iron that started the whole thing. The salon was ruined. The tenants living above the salon had burnt up belongings and no home. My boss and everyone I worked with were yelling at me. I was being sued for being so irresponsible, and was most certainly fired. It was a terrible dream and I felt like it really happened and started panicking about my darn flat iron again.
I don't know if Sean caught on to all the details in my nightmare, but I knew I had to do one thing. I grabbed the keys and told him I had to go to the salon. Yes, I was on the way to the salon by myself at 4:15 am. During the 15 minute drive I was convinced that I was out with all of the car thieves and the rest of the Pittsburgh trouble makers. I got a little scared, but knew I had to check on the salon.
I got to the salon and jumped out of the car. I was wearing my black sweats with the hood up on my head- totally inconspicuous. I went over to the window, cupped my hands around my eyes and tried to see if my flat iron was on. I looked like I was about to do something sketchy, but knew that nobody was watching me. WRONG. People were waiting at the bus stop right across the street. I didn't care what they thought at the time. All I could think about was the flat iron. I couldn't tell if it was on, but I felt good knowing that the salon and apartment complex were still intact and fire-free.
By the time I got home Sean was awake and confused. Poor Sean. I told him what I did and he thought I was crazy. Shoot, I thought I was crazy.
I fell back asleep and woke up an hour later. I had the same dream. I had the same reaction. I responded the same way.
Two trips to the salon in black sweats. Two times I cupped my hands around my eyes. Two times I peered, like a night time creep, through the window. Two times I had an audience watching me from the bus stop across the street.
I made it to work. So what if I was there three hours early. I found out that my flat iron was safely unplugged all night long, and I had nothing to worry about all along.
Unfortunately my bad luck hadn't ended when I found my flat iron unplugged. I realized that this whole thing was on tape and that those that witnessed the dark clothed salon stalker, from across the street, probably called the police. I knew I had to tell my boss about my trips to the salon in the middle of the night. I was embarrassed, but I knew he would hear from security guards and see all the footage on camera. Yes, my trips were each recorded. I felt so stupid, but so relieved that my nightmare was that- just a nightmare. Stupid nightmare.
I told my boss. My boss looked at me like I was crazy. Then asked if I was pregnant. I wished so badly that I could blame my behavior on something other than paranoia, but I couldn't.
I NEVER want to relive last night- EVER! I am tired, embarrassed, and slightly worried I may have a psychological disorder.