Mother in my dress

The night before last, I dreamed that my mum and I were in identical suits, chanel like, though black accented with pink rather than the reverse. Mum had a chanel suit many years ago. Last night I saw her again, wearing the blue dress I bought in Oz for my wedding and never wore in the end. The dress really suited hot weather; it was cobalt blue, flowing long and backless, with a belt made of the same material, that needed all sorts of pressing and flattening to make a perfect sash and bow. This is how I should have known not to buy it; I am no good at tethering and tyng up bits and pieces, and twiddling around with such things exasperates me. Personally, I like jump-in-and-drive clothes, nae fuss nae bother. My actual wedding dress was something I could pull off over my head.

The dress was beautiful for an Oz wedding, begging for hot pink flowers and all that... But still, a mistake. I kept it though, and have worn it on nights out since. And there it was, in my dream, now worn by Mum who looked great in it. She even made the bow right, nice and flat, no bunched up knot, held in place by a corsage flower at her waist, which had jewels in it. So pretty and classy!

I called the corsage a cortege, which was corrected by a guest. Maybe a partial meaning lies in the near-pun, though I never take dreams during sickness as an indication of more than the bod feeling horrendous. I had some weirdly apposite dreams of my father in the year before he died, perhaps now as my mother moves into her 80s, I am just worried about losing her. I am anxious about a few things right now.

Still, she looked excellent in that dress, far better than I ever did.