I’m always amused when life imitates art.

A couple of days ago, I watched the bizarre parade of those invited to the Met Gala. Usually this event showcases the most creative outfit sensations for those who can afford the $50,000 ticket price.

Last night, I had another weird dream that I was living in a city with people dressed and decked out as the Met Gala. That it was normal life.

I looked around me and I was the lone person with the sagging, old skin, wearing my jeans and runners and looking like the odd one out. I was not wearing anything outlandish, I was not reed thin, I didn’t have a body or a face that was botoxed or filled or modified. I was not trying to get attention in any way.

I was invisible.

It was a near future society where people had themselves modified to look like cats, or fairies. dressed in the most outlandish costumes, tall and slim, their faces changed under the knife to look taut, tight, younger.

A world where you paraded your freak to get Likes, to get attention for the moment.

To be visible for longer than the time it takes to swipe.

I woke up from my dream a bit confused but not surprised.

I realised why the Met Gala reminded me of something else and obviously it went into my subconscious and into my dreams.

Looking at Doja Cat and Nicole Kidman who was unrecognisable with her new face, it was the Hunger Games on screen.

Life imitating art.