One morning when I opened my closet door, my eyes were instantly drawn to a dress. It was a dress I never saw before.
“What is this?” “How did it get here?”
I live alone. “Where did this come from?” I pulled out this navy, long sleeved, dress. It had a pencil skirt, to the knee length I liked. The neckline was jeweled. “O-o-oh.” I liked it. “But this dress isn't mine. Where did it come from? Am I going crazy?”
I thought about this. No one had recently stayed at my apartment. No one had even visited me. “How bizarre!”
I even opened the closet door a few times, just to check that my eyes weren't playing tricks. The dress was always there. And I was beginning to like it more and more.
“Would it hurt to try it on?” I looked at the tag. It was my size. The name brand read, Imagination. “Humph—never heard of it.” There were washing instructions. “Good. I don’t buy dry clean only clothes.” What am I saying? I didn't buy this. I know I didn’t. I have absolutely no need to buy a business casual dress. I’m retired.
Well, no use arguing with myself, as I stepped into the dress and zipped up the back. It was perfect—made for me. As I turned myself around to see the back, in my full length mirror, I felt myself spin—faster and faster.
“Whoa.” When I stopped, I found myself at a raised platform, addressing a myriad of people. On the ceiling was a map of the world. In the center was the North Pole surrounded by olive tree branches formed into a wreath. This is the symbol for the United Nations.
There was a discussion about a proposal I just made. I was proposing an idea similar to the Olympics, only it involved music. Every two years, a country would host a musical festival. Musicians from all over the world would be invited to participate. Everyone seemed favorably excited about the proposal.
The discussions continued until the meeting adjourned for the night. As I followed everybody to the exit, I was tapped on the shoulder and turned around and saw myself in the mirror.
The entire UN venue disappeared. I was still wearing the blue dress. “What is going on? This is crazy.”
Hurriedly, I unzipped and stepped out of the dress. I hung it up and placed it way in back of my closet. I don’t think I want to wear that, anymore. “Do you think I should donate it to goodwill?”