Calling Dr. Phil

I got home from church and took my regular Sunday nap. I have interesting dreams, some are filled with remarkable details; today’s was so clear, as if real. I was at the local store and noticed they had some old time Gillette razor blades. These were the old fashioned double sided flat blades that fit into the adjustable razor device. My recollection of these "safety" shavers is based on reality; the adjustment knob had numbers from one to nine which translated into meaningful language respectively meant, “minor nicks”, on through “deep flesh wounds” finishing up with “call an ambulance”.

Back to the dream, there were two different packages of replacement blades, both were nearly indistinguishable. Some were in enamel white dispensers and had “Corsair” printed on them while the others were in stainless steel; I can’t remember if they had a trendy name other than Gillette. I picked up the package, wanting to hold the familiar item in my hand and it was then that I noticed they came bundled with a can of shave cream along with two “free” things of Chap Stick lip balm; all for only $4.95. It had been years since I had used my Gillette Safety Razor and it would be neat to have these blades, just as a back up in the event my “Mach 3” ever got lost. Only in a bad dream would such a scenario play out; all the same I thought it would be a smart purchase as I turned to Lucy and explained my reasoning.

“Go ahead and buy them; just don’t expect me to use them.”, she clearly replied. This was all within the context of the dream. I think the part that I liked best about those razors was the compact dispenser that had ten super sharp blades all lined up and ready for use. When you were done with the old blade it had an opening port on the bottom of the dispenser to permit safe disposal and storage of the used ones. The dispenser was about three quarters of an inch wide, an inch and a half long and about a third of an inch thick. When you held it in your hand it felt like a smooth rock, something you would pitch across the surface of a lake to see how many skips you could get out of it. The idea of having a brand new one magically appear, with the added bonus of a small can of shave cream and 2 “free” Chap Sticks was more than I could resist. Unfortunately when I got to the check out counter to complete the transaction I ran out of dream time.

Okay, Dr. Phil, what does the dream mean? Do I have a self mutilation personality issue for wanting to shave with such a barbaric instrument? Maybe it was simply a nostalgia trip, some creative attempt to turn the clock back 40 years to when I was just starting to shave. It was a dream, so maybe I only needed to turn the clock back 20 years to when I started to shave, make it 5 years and ask to see my driver’s license while you’re at it.

Phote of Gillette Safety Razor courtesy of http://www.creekstone.net/razors/gillette.htm