Where's My Mach 3?

This morning after hitting the snooze button for the 13th time I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom for my morning routine. I was bringing the razor to my face when all of the sudden I remember a sliver of a dream I had earlier; somewhere between sleep and waking. I then started to get glimpses of other half dreams I had... Someone gave me a writing assignment but neglected to tell me the subject of my piece... I was in an automobile accident with some friends but when we came to we had been healed and cleaned up by some mysterious presence... The sliver of the dream that was prompted by my shaving was this...
Apparently, I showed up late to a performance of a show, and had forgotten to shave. Someone handed me a razor and some shaving cream and demanded that I clean up before getting into costume. I could argue. {It must have been an Equity show.} Anyway I smear the shaving cream over my stubble and lift the razor to my face and shave.
One stroke. Okay.
Two strokes. Everything is in order.
Three strokes. Done a thousand times.
Four strokes. Ow, damn what's was that?
I'm bleeding. I cut myself. I can't remember the last time I cut myself shaving.
I hope it's just a nick. It was.
The next one wasn't. It bled like a stuck pig.
In fact I proceeded to slice into my face on every stoke to follow, but I kept shaving. I had to go onstage. My face was a collage of shaving cream, blood, and loose stubble getting caught in the wounds. I couldn't stem the blood flow.
My stage manager rushed in the room to get me for my entrance! I turned to him and was about to call him every word that my parents hate me to use in my blog...

-POOF-

I wake up. I'm lying in bed. I get up, dream forgotten and stumble to the bathroom for my morning routine.
Needless to say, I took my time shaving this morning.