I'm in a dressing room surrounded by at least ten fashion models, talking and trying things on. I feel comfortable, strangely safe here. I like their bodies, though my non-model friends put me down for liking thin girls: "You shouldn't fall for media stereotypes." But I'm tall and thin, why shouldn't I like bodies like my own? I understand bodies like that. Maybe my friends are just jealous...

But their faces disturb me: they're nearly identical. Sleepy eyelids, slack, pretty, dull, a little stupid even. No, wait--if I saw just one of them, I don't think I'd feel that way. But ten people with the same exact face--it's creepy.

I ask, and it's true: they're clones.

"Bred in a test tube..." "and raised to be fashion models!" "And we're sick of it..." "...not of modeling itself..." "we like the clothes..." "the colors!" "...the attention..." "the choice of boyfriends..." "the MONEY!" and they all laugh. "But we're sick of being treated as..." "...subhuman."

Everyone assumes since their genes are right for the job, they're all happy with it. But they've seen my reaction before! They know they bother singletons when they're together. If they separate, they'll be appreciated more. So they're planning to quit, fan off into different careers. Mostly in the arts, because they really do like color, form, feeling... but there's a dentist in there, and one's risking a grad program in physics!

One plans to go on modeling, it's an option like any other--but it'll be different. She'll the only one.

I try on outfits, the clones give feedback. Some of my relatives come in, trying to interfere, get me out of modeling. I kick them out... It's a long matter-of-fact dream of working a job I've never done awake.

One odd fashion memory stood out. One of the few other non-clone models in the show is a short girl, Filipina I think, but with a long funny face. She put on the weirdest outfit--a pleated miniskirt held up by four suspendery curved straps over a simple, thin blouse. The strips are wide, asymmetrical, curved, not really like suspenders. Goes right over her nipples, and looks like it'd chafe horribly. I know fashion's not about practicality, but this is silly!

NOTES WHEN I WOKE

• Models, clones = I've been taking ballet classes, where they still have that slender ethereal body-ideal from imperial European times.
• Blonde, dull face, sleepy eyes = Patricia in dance class. A tall blonde in a lime green leotard, with a great body. But I hadn't talked with her much. Admired her beauty, but... was it making me shy? The dream-clones seem to think so!
• The clones want to be appreciated as individuals = I've been shy and reserved in class, only talked a little to a few girls I'm strongly attracted to. Felt like, as one of the few straight men into dance, I'm a guest in their world and shouldn't hit on women! A sort of perverse respect--but is that how others see it? Maybe it looks like I'm being cold, or don't think they're attractive! When they're struggling to achieve beauty... Have I hurt their feelings without knowing?
• Funnyface girl, suspenders = Huh?????? One of my dance classmates does look like this, but nobody's ever worn this outfit in the history of the world! Ridiculous. And in a real dance, it'd chafe your nipples right off.

NEXT DAY IN CLASS

The funny-faced girl shows up for ballet class in my dream-costume... giant chafing suspenders and all.

So much for symbolism.

And sensitivity--nipple or otherwise.

Oh, and linear time. That too.

World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: wdreamb@yahoo.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites