A Dream -

I am in my childhood home. The sun is shining, the grass is green and there are lots of people here, all women. Everyone is getting ready for one of those 'end of school' events - prom, graduation or something - including myself. We're all madly trying to find the just right dresses and shoes. The interior of the house is constantly switching to shopping mall shoe store, waiting room and fitting room - the living room is the fitting/waiting room and the rest of the house is the shoe store when needed. The colors of these rooms are always in tones of rust and brown.

Several of the women cannot stand my choice of footwear - or the fact that I am choosing it myself. They are always offering to give or buy me a new pair. I always say, "No, thank you." One woman gets extremely upset that I will not accept her shoes - she fumes silently and leaves. I, on the other hand, am happy just to be looking for shoes. I settle on a pair of old sandals that were all the rage back in the very early eighties - they were supposedly orthopedically engineered for comfort, right down to the 'hump' that cradles that little arch where your toes meet your foot. Dr. Scholl's, I believe they're called. The soles are hard and tan with the part that goes over your foot being navy blue with a bright silver buckle.

The sandals have 6 inch heels when I first put them on and I wonder briefly if I will still able to walk in them. As soon as they are on my foot, they feel to be as flat as the floor underneath them. I have no problem. I leave the house and begin walking down the paved road, in my big fancy dress (pale orange with lots of taffeta and other material.) and old comfortable shoes with my mom; Aunt S. and Aunt D. behind me.