I have an almost-dream

A remembered image, really. I come across myself maybe just debarking a flight at the airport, or maybe on my way home from a party. The air is chilly, the lights distant, and I am slightly breathless, but smiling. My hair is glossy black, in chic short layers, my skin glows and my parted lips lined crimson. I'm wearing a little black dress and my unseen heels click importantly on the pavement.

I am successful and gorgeous, but most importantly, I am happy.