White Wall Sessions Hometown Glow "Bright Outside"

My cousin Greyson's band... you rock kiddo :)  love you
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Fel Gives Treats

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The Night Gown

The Night Gown

Ok, it’s time to blog about it. If it comes to my dreams more than once I have to pay attention to it on a different level.  Four times now over the past few months for no reason at all that I can surmise my mind has been triggered to remember this piece of my past.

   It was a soft silky satin material that clung to your body. It made you feel sexy even if you weren’t.  It was a light peach color with no sleeves. It hung to the floor on me shorter in front and tapered to longer in the back so it drug on the ground a little behind me.  It had raised threading on the front of it around each side of the low cut V neck line.  It was curvy even when a little girl put it on.  This was not my nightgown. It was in my grandmas “stuff “. I always felt sexy when wearing it and a little sad.  I used to think the sad was because I wanted it and it was not mine to have.  I was too little. It was too grownup.

I spent hours as a little girl playing in my grandma’s stuff.  She had an upstairs in both houses that she lived in while I knew her.  Each room was a hidden treasure chest of dress up clothes for a little girl. She had wardrobes, hampers, closets, and boxes full of hats, coats, & dresses.  My grandma used to be a seamstress in the depression years.  She made her 4 son’s suit jackets out of an older full length coat that was given to her.  She wore turbans before her time when she could not afford a proper hat. Because she was raised and lived in the depression, material was not easy to come by. Every little bit she could get she put to use.  She ended up hoarding many boxes of clothing and materials that she would never have time to use in her lifetime.  The start of this hoarding was a little girls play room…. Mine.

Most little girl’s dream of becoming a princess, I on the other hand wanted to be a sexy jazz singer with a long cigarette holder in a Mickey Spillane book.   I would stand on her coffee table in front of the mirror in her bedroom dressed in whatever combination I could find that would set the mood & sing loudly into a hairbrush for my microphone.  There was an old phonograph there with a few old 45’s. She didn’t have many records and I doubt she ever played them. She probably got them at a sale and they were stored away with the clothes.  I however played them many many many times over.  One of the records was  CRY by Johnny Ray  http://youtu.be/mFdYALD4Ygw  I sang this over and over in front of that mirror dressed in that night gown. 

That night gown has been in my dreams.  I had completely forgotten about it. But yet here it is in my mind as real as it can be.  I can close my eyes and smell it.  Feel it.. I remember how smooth it was. I remember it not fitting as loose in later days as I grew more into it.  As an only child I pride myself on never being board in my life, I always figured out something to do.  Some may have called it a waste of time to play dress up in my grandma’s stuff.   I know it was not a waste of time.  I used many things back then, my imagination for one.  It wasn’t just given to me on a screen or keyboard to see someone else’s imagination.   All I had was mine. 

I have no idea what that night gown has shown up in my mind again.  I wish I had it with me today.  It was not mine to keep.  Who knows what its fate ended up to be.   It was worn but not worn out.  Did it make the woman who owned it before feel sexy? Surely if she loved it as much as I did, she would not have given it away … It made me feel sexy way before I knew what sexy could mean.   In my adult life I have acquired many sexy pieces of clothing.   From backless to braless you name it… however not one of those pieces.. make me feel like that peach night gown did. Now it comes to visit me in my dreams.

Why has it returned to me in my thoughts? What could it possibly mean?  It is not something I can create over.. There is nothing like it that I have seen since.  It would simply not be the same. Yet here it is, over and over again. A piece of clothing from my childhood that was not even mine.  Maybe I don’t need to figure it out at all, just share the story with you. 

A woman with matching peach lips wears this nightgown now in my dreams.  She is barefoot and walking down a hall as in a motel. She never goes into a room she just walks towards me.  She never reaches me but keeps walking.  She looks sad.  The dream is not frightening it is actually comforting in a weird way.  That is the night gown I used to play in.  Maybe it’s hers again, the woman who owned it.  Maybe she wears that night gown again in another space and time.. And I am just one of those people that she can show in a dream because of the nightgown.  I doubt I will ever know.