I am looking through clothing in a closet. A typical dream closet, this one is large. It allows ample room for not only myself, but as you will see, several other women, and, perhaps not surprisingly, clothing representative of my entire adult life. There are plenty of fashion mistakes in here, which I move past and about as I search for a killer outfit for a night out dancing with 'the girls.'
In this dream, I am having a reunion of sorts. A reunion with all the girls from my 'Glory Days' when my young, firm, body danced the night and the morning away, then worked 8-12 hours standing on a sales floor in the mall, and then danced the night & morning away yet again. The only thing that changed in this cycle was the name of the cool trendy women's clothing store or department store where I sold beauty products or shoes on commission. My jobs were about appearance, as was my nightlife -- but hey, I was in my 20's in the 80's, so we all forgive me, right? (While I don't mean to bore you with stories of my 'real life' it is important for this snippet of dream life, that you understand the context -- so now, I resume the dream.)
As I pick & sort through the clothing, the other women do the same. Again, a vast closet, for it also contains all of their young adult clubbing clothing. Women move back & forth, seeking the matching left shoe, the proper handbag, some are wearing towels and muttering as they hold up several outfits, trying to decide.
It is clear to me, that I recognize all the women here. They are indeed women I went clubbing with in my younger days -- but not all
the women I went clubbing with. No, these are the women I went out with & by this virtue alone was 'the good looking one'.
This may sound vain, but we all know we have those friends. Right or wrong, we've made distinctions, or they've been made for us, based on our looks. With this particular group of women, I was always the hot one. There were other friends that I went out with, where I was not the hot one. Plenty of 'em. But none of them were here in this dream.
So, anyway, in this dream, me and the women I was once always hotter than, are selecting out clothes to go out. I'm having difficulty, as I know little of these clothes are going to fit me. I am conscious of trying to live up to an old standard of 20 year old sexy me, but realize that I just have to pick something to move along. I am not evaluating the other women & their chances of fitting in their old clothes, or comparing them as how they used to look. I figure we are all in the same boat -- even if they all seem excited and find it easier to do.
Finally I select a pair of jeans. One that I know my ass had always looked good in. One that I know can hide a bit of a belly -- and I can wear a shirt, any top, to show off my rack.
These are not any jeans the real me has worn exactly. But they are familiar. As you will see, these jeans are terribly 1980's -- by Guess Jeans I am sure, with the waist band having tabs that fold down (just like jeans I did have by Guess which had several pockets with such flaps that snapped shut but were always left open), and a button fly. They have a very high waist, full hips, and a tapered leg. (Ugh)
In real life, I would stear clear away from such dated looking pants, sure to exaggerate my flaws. Anyway, here are the jeans:
So I take this pair of jeans down & begin to move to the dressing area. Now, here's where it gets interesting.
On my way to get dressed, I pass through a lounge area, where several 'strangers' are seated, drinking coffee and whatnot. One of them I recognize.
She's a woman with a publication which for me, the real me, would be a major score to get connected with. I stand there with the jeans & I ponder what my move should be. And then a funny dream thing happens: I say to myself "Oh, no, this dream is difficult enough facing aging and the loss of beauty without having to test myself in the business world too. Only one problem at a time."
And I move on, walking with my silly jeans, away from this contact.
And that's the end of the dream!
Now, while it's true, at 41 years old, I do have those 'getting old' concerns, and this dream clearly was about competing in this old arena which no longer applies to me -- and about how I feel about all of that. But did my dreamous-interruptous 'save' me from more of a struggle, or did it mean I am literally rejecting moving forward into an arena I can
Was I a silly fool? Or was I sparing myself processing overload? Just how awful are those pants?!
What do you think?