At the risk of sounding like a heartless person, I have to admit that I can’t stand poodles. I know that people think they are cute with their fluffy ‘dos, but I’ve only met one poodle that I could tolerate — a gray/black miniature who was elderly and blind.

My dislike is not without precedent — in elementary school, I was once chased through my neighborhood by a poodle that stood shoulder-to-shoulder with our doberman pincer. In fact, that monster may have even been bigger than our doberman! I pedaled my bike as fast as I could while that beast snapped at my heels. I can still hear the click of its teeth … *shudder*

I remember making it safely home and telling my family about the ordeal. My brother teased me for YEARS about my fear of poodles. Years. Incessantly.

A few nights ago, I woke up feeling confused by a conversation that felt very real, but it didn’t make any sense. It took me a few groggy moments to realize that I had been a dream.

I’ve had straight, fine hair all of my life, and for the last several years, I’ve kept it pretty short. Unfortunately, I did go through a few seasons earlier in life where I thought a perm would be a good idea. I thought that the only way to get “body” in my hair (other than teasing it with a comb) was to perm it. Oh, ’80s, look what you did to me! I can’t recall a specific incident to verify this claim, but I’m pretty sure that I recall my brother also telling me that my hair looked like a poodle when it was permed. This is important, because I was just looking at some of these “big hair” pictures the other day, so it was fresh on my mind.

Anyway, I woke up with the echo of my brother’s laugh in my memory. He was laughing at me, of course, but it was his hearty, I’m-just-joshing-you laugh. The only bit of the dream that I could recall was that I had been standing in front of a mirror with – you guessed it – a horrible perm. I had tried to tame it by pulling it up with a barrette, but that only made the front more poofy.

Nathan was standing behind me, laughing at my terrible hairdo, and he said, “You look like Miffie the poodle!” He kept laughing to the point of tears and wheezing, and I was fighting a chuckle, myself (just too stubborn to give into him). That’s when I woke up.

Miffie the poodle?! I’ve never even heard that name before. What a funny thing to dream. I don’t even care that he was laughing at me — it is so rare to hear his voice in my dreams, so I relished even what little I could remember from the silly scene. I miss his laugh the most.