She wore a  romantic white skirt with layers of tulle like a ballet tutu. Her top showed her brown shoulders and arms and the warm air made her feel like a fairy. She felt beautiful but her heart was heavy.  The wedding was in a garden on a perfect  summer night.

She had not been out much since she left her marriage  a few months earlier and although eager to attend this event, she wondered how a wedding would make her feel- hopeful or devastatingly sad? She had attended her own wedding several years ago with all the excitement and hope that she now saw in this bride. Cynicism buzzed around her like a pesky fly.

A friend said -come with me I want you to meet someone. She panicked. It was too soon. She ran to look for the washroom to hide. She was told only the bride could use the pretty washroom- she would have to use the other one. In the middle of an elegant hallway wallpapered  in velvet jacquard,  sat a toilet and all around it people drank champagne and laughed and danced.

She pulled up her beautiful skirt and used the toilet right there. She swallowed  her humiliation hard, her  dignity suffering.

When the girl woke up she realized it was only a dream. For a moment she searched her mind to remember the truth of her life- and then it washed over her like a blackness. She had no privacy in real life. The dream is her life. She is newly separated and the world seems at a  beautiful party as she sits exposed in the middle of it. No privacy. A scramble for dignity. A fight for cover.

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