in the occasionally interesting subject of dream interpretation, i offer last night's creation-
me, along with a large group of girls, some of whom i know and some strangers, brought to new york with one suitcase and no real idea what was going on. what is going on? debutante (debutard?) luncheon! to my panic and chagrin, my suitcase lacks the requisite white pantsuit-type lunching outfit every debutante requires and is instead filled with black, vaguely punky hipster clothing that i try desperately to make into some kind of presentable outfit, knowing that i will surely be denied entry due to my wrong-end of manhantten appropriate wardrobe. and the worst part- i'm actually kind of broken up about this.
wtf?
odd manifestation of my current existential crisis? repressed lament over never getting to be a debutante? plain old cracked out standard issue dream?
i'm going to go with number 2. lord knows i always wanted to have multiple male escorts (one military, even), exchange small talk with hotel heiresses, AND impress everyone present with my curtseying skills. i mean, seriously, who wouldn't? once you get your invites, the tables are only ten thou. pocket change.
there's a reason why these people are frequently referred to as debutards.
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