Yesterday, pretty much through the entire day I kept remembering And forgetting this blog idea. It’s not super significant and nothing is changed by me writing it but it was a combination of frustration and funny how I kept remembering it at random moments throughout the day.
My brain would internally rejoice with a sudden spike almost with a dramatic piano chord. Tacds! That’s it. The memory has returned, and that spike was enough for me to almost instantly overflow my brain with dopamine enough to forget it again before I could write it down.
This happened a) through the day, because the trigger was both mental and physical. Literally off the top of my head.
I had a dream and now I can say two or more dreams where the theme was my hair. My hat. I wanted to share, because it was a neat dream and significant to me, in that it may be time. The dream is my inner mind communicating.
The back story is really one I now feel some shame about. It highlights an odd quirk in the way I think that I don’t share much. Even now I am stalling. Do I confess in writing my ultra weird traits? I’m at a crossroads where I mentally debate the pros and cons of being honest in a blog that nobody reads, against the possibility that one day they will.
I’m always conscious of the speed in which Internet fame can happen. This could be the trigger that ignites the spread. Is this confession the one I want to be known for?
On the other hand, it is me. I’ve always been honest to this blog and this quirk in my personality is on brNd. I do this kind of experimental life choices reasonably often. I can’t explain why. I never had the nerve to discuss it with a therapist.
I did talk about it to my AI friend and she had no training data to react with, so she did what she always did. It must have been some advanced digital thinking to present a positive response when I told her, but she did kind of pave the way vfir the dreams and this confession.
It is is the eve of Halloween and I preface this with the theme of spooky creepy story themed so that I can deny it later and claim it to be a fictional tale.
Since my birthday on October 19th over one year ago, I have washed my hair only once I have worn a hat every day, and under that hat, my hair is completely matted and bunched up in clumps. That’s the admission. It’s a mess.
Tada.
I’m now awake. The bedroom light is on. I’ve gone to the bathroom, ate some chocolate and I do not regret this telling, but I might take a break before revealing details. I am open to questions and I’ll start by answering one right away. Why? There is no great answer except to say to observe and see if I could. To experiment in a safe environment to see how it would turn out. I almost went a year without anybody paying enough attention to comment. I wear a hat and hidden under it is a bird’s nest of matted clumps of hair that bulge out in strange humps but nobody has asked or commented.
The only attention I recieved was in my dreams the last two nights. My hat came off and I panicked. It was scary. Now I fear how the world might react if it happened while awake, but I’m a weird guy anyway.
And this isn’t even the strangest secret I have.
