At 4 A.M. I awoke with this dream:

I’m shopping at a boutique. An older friend of Mary Ann asks me to drop by a cherry- red velour long sleeve dress with a self-tie belt, along with a burnt-chocolate cropped jacket that she’d picked out for her. The outfit appeals to me and I regret not having selected it for myself. I drive over to Mary Ann’s house and find her dispirited, uninterested in the outfit. She hands it back to me.

The dream lays bare dynamics hidden within the recesses of my shadow tucked in my unconscious. The boutique resembles ones I used to frequent, decades ago, their high energy pumping desire, their clothing remarkable for crisp fabrics, vibrant colors, and flattering styles.

I brighten with interest noting the cherry-red velour long sleeve dress with a self-tie belt, along with the burnt-chocolate cropped jacket. The ensemble, though representative of the 1980s, still reflects my tastes as well as my past addiction for still another outfit. Twice each year, I had to thin out my closets for more space.

 An older friend suggests the thoughtful woman in my psyche, properly aligned with Higher Power and willing to fulfill her request. But Mary Ann is another story: chronically angry, controlling, rigid, self-absorbed, the dross of my character defects still to be removed, once recognized and turned over to Higher Power.

Even the outfit, specifically selected for Mary Ann, fails to evoke spirit as she turns her face to the wall. This tidbit recalls years of outfits for which my godmother gifted my birthdays, most of which I returned for credit.

Despite daily efforts to live more mindfully, I still have work to do before leaving here—My Dreamer always tells the truth.