As a girl, and then a young woman, I had a little trick for putting myself to sleep. Self-soothing, we’d call it now. However, I had no use for rocking, hair twirling, or routine thumb sucking.
I’d imagine getting dressed for a party. A big party. A fancy party. I’d envision the dress, the jewelry, the shoes. Right off to the Land of Nod.
These days sleep is more elusive. Ah, middle age. But the joys of imagined dress-up haven’t deserted me. Sometimes I like to pretend that I’m going to a charity gala. I haven’t attended one in decades. Business events don’t count. But in my imagination I’m at a fund-raiser for San Francisco’s Asian Art Museum.
A digression. These days, the Internet provides tools for daydreaming. Couldn’t we use that as a definition of the Internet, a summation of why it’s such an unstoppable phenomenon? We dream that our spreadsheets predict future wealth, that our social network contacts love us, that a vacation in Turkey is just out the door. Some of this of course may be true.
But let us narrate the day dream. Because the stories we tell on top of what tools deliver us still matter.
Could I just about pull that dress off, all silver slide and bare skin of it? I’d get friendly with my ShakeWeight again. Wear shoes to match color, vary the texture. An Alexander McQueen wrap, just because one can. And aquamarines, so that everything is pale but my blue eyes and dusky pink mouth. All age spots gone, neck nicely blurred. This is imaginary.
Let’s borrow a construct from kidchamp.net. Let’s ask the questions as though your answers have weight. Which, of course, they do.
o1: Do you have a different imaginary construction? Something beautiful you build completely in the air?
02: Can women over 50 wear cut-outs or is our skin oddly taboo?
03: What color ballgown would you choose, were the occasion to present itself?