The Fancy Room Memory
I'm in a large room with high ceilings. The walls are painted white with fancy gold colored molding at the corners where ceilings and walls meet. The furniture in the room is possibly a baroque style and is very nice. The room is most curious in that I'm not sure what kind of room it is. What is it for? There are comfortable plush chairs, a fancy desk with chairs (a rich dark wood finish) and there is a changing screen in the room! The room has an official yet casual feeling about it. The room is very elegant.

There are other people in the room and I seem to be the center of attention or curiosity. I am not the highest ranking person in the room. I am not able to recognize any of the people, but they are all older than me. For some reason they had me changing behind the screen. I come out from behind wearing my normal uniform pants and boots, but there is something about the white shirt that I am wearing. They seemed to be concerned along with myself as to how it fits. The shirt buttons up the front and is smartly ironed. I like the shirt and most of them approve of it also. One individual comes over to fuss with something about the sleeves.

I kinda feel like a prized mare being looked over or like Cinderella being prepared for the King's ball. I think the man looking at the shirt is a tailor. He has a measuring ribbon draped over his shoulders and pins and pencils. He is very fussy. He also has dark hair that is receding and wears glasses for close up work. He is about 30 or 40 years old. There is also a thin balding spot that I noticed on the top of his head when he bent down to look at the pants.

He then starts to look over the pants and tugs at them in a couple of unusual or should I say surprising directions and he comes to the conclusion that they fit me poorly. Whatever he said made the rest of the gentlemen in the room laugh. I feel a little conspicuous and self conscious about the whole affair. The tailor seems to want a comment of approval or disapproval from one of the gentlemen seated in the room. The older seated gentleman gives me a contemplative look and after rubbing his chin replies to the tailor. At this point everything is out of my hands and I am at their command and mercy. (I wonder if this has anything to do with visiting the Kaiser?)

I get the impression that I have to be dressed properly for a formal occasion this evening and they are hard pressed to dress me by that time. Borrowing clothes was speculated upon, but no one in the room is my size. They are either too tall or too round. I'm ordered by the tailor to go back behind the screen, but only after he makes a few observations about my trousers. I then take them off and give them to him. This is starting to grow very tiresome and I can't get out of it. And I'm not really sure why I have to change behind the screen either. There are no women in the room, so I'm bored while this tailor does some adjustments to my pants. I felt like I was waiting forever, but it was probably about ten minutes.