One morning when I opened my closet door, my eyes were
instantly drawn to a dress. It was a
dress I never saw before.
“What is this?” “How
did it get here?”
I live alone. “Where
did this come from?” I pulled out this navy,
long sleeved, dress. It had a pencil
skirt, to the knee length I liked. The
neckline was jeweled. “O-o-oh.” I liked it.
“But this dress isn't mine. Where
did it come from? Am I going crazy?”
I thought about this.
No one had recently stayed at my apartment. No one had even visited me. “How bizarre!”
I even opened the closet door a few times, just to check
that my eyes weren't playing tricks. The
dress was always there. And I was
beginning to like it more and more.
“Would it hurt to try it on?” I looked at the tag. It was my size. The name brand read, Imagination. “Humph—never heard of it.” There were washing
instructions. “Good. I don’t buy dry clean only clothes.” What am I saying? I didn't buy this. I know I didn’t. I have absolutely no need to buy a business
casual dress. I’m retired.
Well, no use arguing with myself, as I stepped into the
dress and zipped up the back. It was
perfect—made for me. As I turned myself around
to see the back, in my full length mirror, I felt myself spin—faster and
faster.
“Whoa.” When I
stopped, I found myself at a raised platform, addressing a myriad of
people. On the ceiling was a map of the
world. In the center was the North Pole
surrounded by olive tree branches formed into a wreath. This is the symbol for the United Nations.
There was a discussion about a proposal I just made. I was proposing an idea similar to the
Olympics, only it involved music. Every
two years, a country would host a musical festival. Musicians from all over the world would be
invited to participate. Everyone seemed
favorably excited about the proposal.
The discussions continued until the meeting adjourned for
the night. As I followed everybody to the exit, I was tapped on the
shoulder and turned around and saw myself in the mirror.
The entire UN venue disappeared. I was still wearing the blue dress. “What is going on? This is crazy.”
Hurriedly, I unzipped and stepped out of the dress. I hung it up and placed it way in back of my
closet. I don’t think I want to wear
that, anymore. “Do you think I should
donate it to goodwill?”
