It is as though I am lifting up the dress’s train and billowing it out, for my younger self, who is walking away from me, toward music and fanfare and beauty and hope . . . breathless and sure and happy.
My focus, though, is not on her.
It is on the dress itself and particularly on these 2 pieces of thick raw silk, that drape down its sides, like fondant ribbons, starting at the center of the waist and fanning out alongside the ball gown’s lace train
At their very edge and end point of the ribbon, I can see a cluster of tiny embroidered lace butterflies, an afterthought almost, like a grace note, pulled across the floor, part of this journey forward
My heart and head can’t seem to let go of this image, mostly because I had forgotten this detail of the gown I found and fell in love with as a 25 year old.
And here I am discovering it again in a dream almost 25 years later – a butterfly . . .
Most people who know me, also know that butterflies are a kind of sacred symbol for me. When I see them I know I need to stop and pay attention – that there is something important I need to learn.
Yet right now I can’t discern what the lesson is.
All I can do is wonder at it.