Dream Me

I had a dream last night that I was getting ready for a show of sorts. I was assuming a costume, dressing as someone else. People handed me clothes that were a style I’d never choose and put them on. I obliged them and they told me how wonderful I looked and didn’t I think so, too? I smiled and said yes.  They helped me to curl my hair and took sections of it in their hands to color in shades of pink and red. I would look just like her, they told me. I smiled and said yes. Next came the make up. Three shades lighter than my skin tone and thick enough to cover it completely. They powered my face and lined my eyelids and rouged my cheeks. As the stained my lips, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Except it was not myself, but a different person entirely. They eyes looking at me held something familiar, but the rest was unrecognizable. Beautiful, they told me. I smiled and said yes.

I went on stage, sat in a chair and the lights dimmed. The music started and I realized they expected me to sing. But I could not sing. Though those who looked on believed me to be this someone else, my voice was not trained as hers was. What was inside was not what they were expecting and as soon as I opened my mouth they would know.

I ran off stage, Ran to the bathroom, dry heaving. My hands were frantic as they searched for the sink, turning on the water and splashing water into my face. Desperately, I scrubbed away the make up, watching the colors swirl down the sink. I brushed out my hair and tore off the finery in which I was dressed. 

I walked back on stage then. My hair a mess, my face bare and dressed only in a slip. I looked out to the audience, daring them to comment, to yell, to hurl insults, to walk out. I was not who they wanted, who they asked to see. I opened my mouth. Not to sing, but to speak. To tell them of who I was, my humble story, and what I had to offer. I was quiet at first, but as I spoke my voice grew louder until I was shouting. I moved across the stage, gesticulating with my entire body to emphasize each point, dancing as I felt compelled to. This was me. All of me. Like me or not, but I was real. And I was enough. More than enough. I was essence. I was truth.