Dreams and Secret Weapons

My name is Ms Havisham.

Jilted and unemployed, I am the lost cause of the twenty first century. I also had a dream about the Love of my Life last night. I will call him Lol for short, it makes the concept slightly more palatable.

I dreamt that Lol finally said the binding words “its over.” to me. He looked straight in my eyes and ended it. A courtesy I have not yet been privy to. It doesn’t take an expert dream analyst to tell me that I need closure. Call me naïve, call me completely ridiculous if you will, I wouldn’t blame you, but there is still a part of me that is waiting for him to come back. Every time I leave the house, I expect to see his car waiting for me outside. Every time my phone rings, I get nervous thinking it might be him. It never happens…of course…but I can’t stop hoping.

So I didn’t exactly wake up feeling rosy. But I got myself out of my warm bed and into a  great outfit: it all matched: the coat, the belt, the shoes, the bag, even the underwear, you name it. A few years ago when I was depressed, my mother once told me: “Ms Havisham, you are now a woman and a woman, no matter how she feels, does not leave the house without makeup.” Now I don’t actually wear makeup at the moment and that started before my decline but in that respect, my mother spoke words of wisdom. Looks are power and knowing how to make the most of yourself is the ultimate secret weapon arming you with inimitable confidence.

And so I dress up. I dress up to look good, I dress up to feel good. Then, just for a second, I can forget that I’ve dressed up clinging to the shred of hope that somehow, maybe he will be there and life will feel good…