And what do you see? Is it the real you, or a stranger?
I look in the mirror, and what do I see? A person I know, but a face I don’t. I mean, that person wears glasses, has that growly look, humps one shoulder more forward than the other – and shorter in reality than …
In my dreams, I don’t need glasses to see – I see it all; in my dreams I can run, I can dance, I can swim, I can fly.
In my dreams the person I am is more real than that person in the mirror.
I walk past again, and the carousel of mirrors shows a different aspect each time; is it still the same me?
This one, with the chin jutted forward, aggressive, the eyes furtive, cautious, the mind swirling with fears and antagonism.
The next one, the half-smile, the glasses on the end of the nose – reading? Oh, that’s why the smile.
Turn the corner, pluck at that vision – is it me? Or a stranger?
What is it that I recognise about this face?
The shape, although it has changed over the years, less defined, less sell-able; what about the shape of the brows? They too have changed over the years – shaped and managed until the question mark of the right brow has been diminished, and people don’t look so shocked when they look into those eyes.
The skin colour, not a true reflection of self, and it too has changed over the years. Once, it was used to make pretty pictures that other people liked, smiled at, appreciated. It was smoother, with no scars or ridges or patchy bits or raggedy butterfly shapes across the nose and cheeks – once the skin was a honey-brown colour.
The hair, once so lovely and thick, a lush deep colour of browns with highlights of sun-bleached blondes and a touch of fire. Now, it doesn’t quite cover the scalp, growing it long only makes the gaps on said scalp wider and more noticeable, and every day the brushing or combing leaves more on the tool than on the head. The crowning glory is no more.
But, in my dreams, I am the real me. I can run and jump, dance and sing (and not sound like a caterwauling cat in a fight with a donkey), fly and dive. I am free of the constraints of bad eyes, bad skin, bad hair – I am me.
Copyright Cage Dunn 2017 –