I had the worst dream last night.
It all began innocently enough with me deciding to get my nails done. Even whilst deep within the throes of REM sleep, I found this slightly odd, because I never ever get manicures in real life. For some reason, I always feel like it would be easier to just do my own nails, which in hindsight nearly always ends with disastrous patchy results, but no one can really see it anyway if you flail your hands about enough.
But Dream Minty went with it, because it was a dream, and Real-Life, Full-of-Doubtful-Questions Minty had no place of standing in Happy-Go-Lucky, Slightly Stupid Dream Minty’s world.
So anyway, the next thing I remember about the dream was being in the foyer of some incredibly posh nail spa which looked a little like this:
Except there were more plushy seats, a bigger space, mani-pedi equipment (obviously) and some kind of posh classical music was playing overhead. Oh, and there weren’t any stairs in the background, either.
A friendly nail technician approached with a complimentary drink and a whole lot of nice things to say which absolutely charmed the numbers off of my credit card, and prompted me to follow her to the nailpolish racks to choose a colour I’d like for my nails. As she led me towards a far wall, I was feeling great – It was going to be the ultimate, nail-pampering experience! My nails were going to be foiled in 24-carat gold, and I was going to be waited on hand-and-foot! I COULDN’T WAIT!
That is, until I was visually accosted by this:
What. The. Fudgesicles.
It was a formidable wall of nailpolish in every single colour you could think of!! Every shade ever spat out onto a conveyer belt of a nailpolish factory was here, except it was all splayed out in a total disarray, which didn’t mesh with its upscale surroundings. Nothing was arranged according to colour and that was REALLY weird. But for some reason, Dream Minty didn’t feel like anything amiss.
La la la, how exciting, said Dream Minty, as she began to pick through the shelves of colour.
Dream Time passed, and Dream Minty unraveled slowly, her movements becoming erratic and confused, pacing edgily to and fro along the entire length of the ginormous wall.
Maybe this one? How about this one? I can’t find a colour I like. This one? That one? AHA! .. arg, that’s not what I’m looking for. What about this one? NO. THIS ONE? NOOO! OMGWTF EVERYTHING’S EVERYWHERE!!! THIS ONE??.. AUUUGHH!!
YES. IT WAS AN ENDLESS SOLILOQUY OF INDECISIVENESS; A VERITABLE MINTY-NIGHTMARE OF EPIC PROPORTIONS!!
I awoke feeling flustered and horrible. I never even got to finish my dream posh nail experience, and it’s all because of that stupid unorganized dream wall of nailpolish. What a waste!
Moral of the story: If anyone is ever thinking of opening a nail salon, please organize your colours according to shades, or risk having clients develop temporary psychosis in your store.
And just in case you’re wondering what Real-Life Minty is currently wearing on her nails:
My sunny pick-me-up in a bottle.