Lottery of My Dreams

The moment I opened my eyes, I instantly felt an unfamiliar discomfort throughout my body, which I slowly realized were from the stiff cushions of a velvety red armchair that I sat in; My back was poised up by a handful of pillows which were in what seemed like all possible shades of pink. I looked down at my clothing and noted that a lace cuff was wrapped around each of my wrists on the fabulous cream blouse I was wearing. Below my blouse, was a long dark brown fish skirt that wrapped my hips, waist and legs perfectly, similar to the way wrapping paper wrapped a present: covering what’s inside but tight enough to see the shape. My legs were covered in dark brown tights going all the way down till my feet. I instantly recognized the designer brand of the bright red heels that practically every young girl dreamed of owning. I had never owned such expensive shoes before- how could I suddenly own a pair? Even just buying one shoe could take up five months' salary. 

When I looked up and around, I noticed unfamiliar people dressed in black and white suits or dresses, scurrying back and forth then occasionally whispering to each other or nodding vigorously. The room glistened in white and gold: from the glossy marble floor to the chic lined wallpaper to the lofty belgian-chocolate-brown tiled ceiling. Each room was decorated with its own jewels: Chandeliers of all styles, colors and sizes, exquisite (and useless-looking) trinkets of all varieties, plump couches and loveseats, and priceless pieces of art of many mediums: large paintings, marble sculptures and more… It was nothing like what I’ve ever seen before, this only existed in magazines and fairy tales. This place was a museum itself. Lost in thought, I hadn’t even realized that a woman in a classic black suit and dangling tailcoat appeared next to me. 

“Excuse me, Madam Lydia,” she says, “your order of pickles has come.”

“Madam?” I repeated under my breath. I had never been addressed so highly nor lived in such lavish conditions… What in the world has happened?

“Madam, is everything quite all right?” the woman replied, “Shall I send the butlers to unload the delivery and place the pickles into your pickle ice box?”

 “Ah…” I hesitated, Why in the world would I have an ice box specifically for pickles?  “Yes, please do.” I stared at her as she continued to stand at my side, contemplating something.

“Erm… Madam,” she began, scratching her head, “Is there- anything else you require me to do?”

“Oh, uhm… Could you please bring me a jar of pickles cut up in fourth size wedges and plated?”

“Of course, Madam. If you need anything else, please notify a servant” the woman said and took off.

“Servants” I muttered as I stood up. My heels made me feel like a model about to strut the runway as I started walking down the hallway that (unfortunately) was not covered in red carpet. The heels went clack, clack, clack, like a clock, tick tick ticking on an even beat. As I walked down the hallway, I stretched my right hand out and let my fingers trace a horizontal line as I walked, feeling the texture of the smooth and glossy wallpaper that fit the wall as snug as a glove. When I reached a light switch, I flipped it on and off and on and off, watching the chandeliers darken before sparkling again the next second. It was truly magical. This place was like a treasure box, everywhere I went there was bound to be something valuable. That’s when I came across the antique record player which was kept in absolute pristine condition, the horn shimmered so bright that when I brought my face up close, I could see my own reflection. Although I had some makeup on, my face looked so smooth and clear, lovely even. I slowly touched my face- was this really me? My hair was perfectly kempt, locks of curled blond hair rested in layers on each side. I never knew I could look so- beautiful. 

I also noticed that I was wearing pieces of jewelry. They felt weightless on my face, as money did in a palm of a hand. I wore a matching set of dangling earrings, necklace, bracelets and rings each containing large extravagant red rubies on a silver chain. I began to take one of the rings off to examine the large jewel embedded in it, when it slipped and dropped from my hand. It rolled forward and I shuffled in my heels to chase after it. It rolled quickly like a criminal on the run into a darkened room and I carefully followed. Luckily, it hadn’t rolled too far in, and I was able to get it without going in too deep. However, when I lifted my head up from the ground, the room began to get brighter. And I could see a trail of something leading deeper into the room. I squinted and realized that they were used Band-Aids, laying in a dotted line. Without thinking twice, I followed the trail into a second room that had a spotlight pointed on a statue that stood in the center. I crooked my head to the side when I saw that the statue was of a Chihuahua?

 Suddenly a voice called me.

“Madam Lydia! Your pickles are ready!”

“Ah coming!” I replied, quickly turning my back on the statue and leaving. 

The pickles tasted great- sour yet sweet and juicy. I played music on the record player and flipped through a magazine that starred myself. I saw what seemed like hundreds of pictures of myself in various clothing and positions. Clothing brands, food companies, music agencies, makeup lines starred me and even more. Looking at myself like this simply felt surreal. 

I traveled from room to room and ordered anything I wanted. Each time, a servant would bring my request and end with a bowed head. I laid lazily in any room I wanted to. And while I laid on the zebra patterned chaise longue, I finally stretched my body out on the sunbed-like chair, and blinked away my tears from yawning. I rolled over one side to stretch out my back and felt it crack a few times before I felt my heart drop as I suddenly lost my balance. I tipped over and off the chaise longue, falling flat on my face. 

“OUCH!” I screamed, my eyes flying wide open. I wince at the feeling of a hardwood floor holding me flat on the ground. I glance to my side and see an old flattened out mattress. My body is aching but I don’t want to get up, instead I lay there, staring at the familiar ceiling, unlike the fancy brown tiled one I saw just before. This ceiling was white and has stained splats of various grotesque colors that I have no recollection of putting there myself, but rather was already part of the room when I first began renting it. Fortunately, as of now, the colors are faint and the room seems to be dipped in the moonlight, emitting a dreamy silver glow. In the moonlight I could see little specks of dust bunnies drifting along, finding a new spot in the room to travel to and settle in. The room reeked of week-old laundry that had no box to be kept in nor time or place to be washed in. I remember this place. And I don’t want to stay here. Could I return to that beautiful lifestyle I was just living moments ago? I had everything there that money could possibly get me. I practically had no responsibilities nor worries besides for my own happiness. I even had a separate ice box for my pickles! I close my eyes and sigh deeply, stretch my hands over my face, my palms facing the ceiling. When I open my eyes I can see it all: the rough patches of skin as a result of one too many direct interactions with cleaning chemicals, blisters that had formed from those rough patches as well as little cuts sprinkled around that haven’t yet been treated. This is what my life is supposed to be, I thought. 

I sit up straight on the cold, hardwood floor, my blanket still draped over my legs. I shift around in place and feel something fall out of my pocket. “Whoops” I mutter, flipping the blanket off my legs. Despite being in a moonlit room, it’s still dark when three of the four walls are plain and window-less. I pat my hand around the floor and pick up used Band-Aids, dust bunnies and a fragment of crumpled cardstock. I unfold the cardstock to reveal an image that I can’t see clearly, so I hold it under the little bit of moonlight coming through the window. It took me a few moments to realize that this was a fragment of a lottery ticket. 

It reminded me of where all my luck had gone because this was no ordinary lottery ticket. This was a fragment of the winning Mega Million Jackpot Lottery ticket. Which I then lost the same day while in a fight with a Chihuahua. Indeed, this Chihuahua had more strength and grip than any man doing arm workouts has. It confuses me how the canine thought that my piece of paper was a tug of war toy. How disappointing it truly was. If it weren’t for that feral animal, everything I dreamed of 

could’ve been mine.