I look at my reflection in the mirror and admire my dress. It was a pale blue with a sprinkle of lace on the bodice, neckline, and cuffs. A bright but darker blue ribbon wound up from the hem of my skirt to my waist. The puffed sleeves added width to my frame compensating for my lack of hourglass figure.

The dress was simple yet elegant. It hadn't bleached in the harsh Indian sun despite the numerous times the help had washed and dried it for me. Yes, it was my favorite dress, and I was guilty of wearing it frequently, of that, I will admit.

Living far from London meant that I didn't have to keep up with the latest fashion. After all who in their right mind would tailor a dress for weeks, then wait for weeks more for it to ship to India, and then wait to get paid?

I had seen the latest fashion change, or so I thought. The new genteel ladies that arrived at the cantonment on the arms of their soldier husbands sported lovely dresses with bright splashes of color, ribbons, and lace to match, fancy hats with feathers, and dainty parasols. The favored whalebone hooped petticoat that spread out at least a foot around these women's waists made them look like they had unnaturally narrow waists and elephant-like hips – nope nothing had changed there either. What had changed, however, were the subtle things, from sleeves that fell to the wrists to those that stopped above the elbow. Layered skirts and thinner waists along with tighter bodices were also perfectly acceptable. The spotless white powdered face was also becoming obsolete. The most scandalous change, perhaps, was the lack of lace that came all the way up to the chin. No longer preferred, women showed skin right down to the tops of their breasts.

I chuckle to myself as I imagine these tender women learning to live the Indian way. The thought of them fainting in the heat did give me a certain amount of guilty pleasure.

Mama had often said I mustn't think like that. But I couldn't help myself. I hadn't been to London in almost five years, and perhaps, just perhaps, I was the teeniest bit envious. I did miss my home. But there was such freedom in India that I loved living here.

A lot of the harshness and judgment that existed in London didn't occur here. The societal structure was immensely different as the old bats, as I called them, were not here to dictate how things must be. I admit, I was also hurt and a little bitter about being forced to come to India.

You see, some five years ago, I had met the most wonderful and charming young soldier named William. After a short courtship, with our parents' consent, of course, he and I were engaged to be wed. I couldn't have been more excited. A spring wedding is what my heart desired, and wonderful William was only too happy to agree.

When I should have been dreaming about wedding and bridesmaid dresses, and flower arrangements and sending my father to speak with the Parish Priest about a date for my church wedding, I was instead, spending my time frightened to bits.

As fate would have it, a nasty war was being predicted, and the country called on all her soldiers, young and old, married and not. And so it came to be that my William was required to place his duties above his to-be family. The wedding was postponed indefinitely, and I was a horrid mess.

My mind played cruel tricks on me nightly. I often imagined my William sprawled on the battlefield, his essence pouring out of him. Afraid of losing my whole world, I found myself slipping out the night before his departure. I needed to see him one more time and not in the company of old bats.

And so that Saturday, I ran across the street and slipped between the fences and snuck into the narrow alley. I lifted my skirts to avoid the London filth from ruining my pale blue dress and picked my way across to William's house.

It must have been fate for as I rounded the corner, I bumped into William. His hands were laden with groceries. He was utterly shocked at my bold step and insisted on escorting me home. But I wouldn't leave till I had reassured myself. Ever obliging, he snuck me into his room. It was there that I gave myself, wholly, to the man I would one day marry.

My heart was crushed when two months later, I learned that the ship carrying William had sunk and taken every soldier – William included – to a dark and watery grave. Not only had I lost the only man I had ever loved, but I would also now be unable to bid him farewell. There would be an empty coffin at his funeral. Even if cold and clammy, I would have liked to hold his hand and look upon his face one last time.

It was a tumultuous period for my family, as we were tested yet again shortly after. What had been dismissed as my illness from weakness and heartbreak soon turned out to be something else entirely. Imagine my joy, and my family's horror, when we all learned that a part of William grew in my belly.

I couldn't have been more overjoyed to learn that I hadn't lost William completely. Yet my family obsessed over their loss of respect in affluent British circles from the scandal I was about to cause. I didn't mind staying a spinster the rest of my life as long as I could have had this one wish granted. I wanted to have William's baby. Unsure of what to do with me, they loaded me on the first ship heading for the continent, my father in tow. As simply as that, they washed their hands off their only daughter.

When we arrived, my father called on a few good friends and with their help, he furnished a house that had been in my family for a few years. This is where I would forever live by myself, hiding my shame from the rest of the world.

They were granting my wish, even though I was far, far away from home. I could live with their decision for I had a life growing in my belly. And that life meant the world to me! I must have been ill-fated for no sooner had I settled into my new house, I lost William's child. You see I had made the mistake of stepping out on an overcast day and found myself getting besieged by the rain. A tumble down the mountainside – a result of a misstep – is all it took to end my happiness.

The child was so inconsequential in its formation that the doctor that tended to my broken bones ordered it trashed before I recovered.

Like William, his child left me. Like William, I never had the chance to say goodbye. And now, I had only one thing left.

I needed the comfort and advise only a mother could provide and the reassurance of my father. However, my family wanted nothing more to do with me. Heartbroken, I pled with them for the better part of a year, writing to ask for their forgiveness and hoping they would understand my actions. But it wasn't to be. They did not take pity on me, and they did not grant me another wish.

Word of my indiscretion had spread, and I was no longer welcome in London, they said. I was to do this favor for my family and stay where they had left me. Barely in the middle of my teenage years and I had lost everything. Was I even equipped to deal with such loss and sorrow at that age? And that too by myself? I had no more reason to continue living, of that I was becoming more and more certain as the days and seasons went by.

"Gwen."

At the sound of his voice, I pinched my cheeks, straightened my shoulders and turned away from the mirror.

Raising my lace handkerchief, I dabbed at the tears that threatened to roll down my face. Being confronted with the demons from one's past was an awful form of torture.

I forced the tears back. Today was a joyous day, and there would be no more tears, I had promised myself that much, and I would endeavor to ensure that I kept this promise.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," I replied and hastened. A soft insistent pounding, just like a headache I sported, had me grinding my teeth. Of course, I would not hold my fiancé's impatience against him.

Not today. For today, we would be man and wife.

The thought circles around in my mind and despite the sorrow I feel, I couldn't help but smile – genuinely. I had met the second most wonderful man on earth, and today, we would solemnly pledge our love for each other. The sadness lifted, as did my hand. The knob turned, and I opened the door.

"My darling," I said to the man who stood on the other side.

--------------

I jolted upright. James?

Was I having some kind of weird, out there, sort of dream? Such a strange dream to have and for it to have felt so real!

The Gwen in my dreams looked just like me. Not too tall, not too short. She had the same limp blond hair except hers was done up fashionably whereas I usually kept mine securely tied into a pony. Her eyes were the same shade as mine except they were duller and sadder. The room she stood in looked so much like my bedroom with the bay windows, except mine was now furniture-less. I rationalized the similarities away. Even if, and that was a big if, I was dreaming of Lady Wood's daughter, there was no plausible connection between her and me except that we shared the same first name. Since I had no clue what she looked like, I lent her my face. A face to go with a name, that's all. Nothing too discomforting there!

Could I say the same about James in my dream? Perhaps. I was pining over a man that just broke my heart. Only made sense to see him in the one place where I could; my dreams.

But what of her history? Did her life truly travel such a horrifyingly lonely and painful path? Did she really love a William? Did she lose her baby like she said she did? Whose was that second grave I had yet to see? Did she really marry a James? How was it possible that a Gwen and James lived in my house so many years ago? And now, a century later, another Gwen and James find themselves in that house?

The words supernatural, paranormal, ghosts and past lives ran through my mind. All rationale explanations. Except that I didn't believe in any of that sort of stuff.

I ached for some coffee to clear my mind. A cursory glance at the window told me that the sky was still pitch black and the usual 5:00 am buzzing of mosquitoes attempting to escape before the sun rose, hadn't begun. It was still too early to be out of bed.

Oh, what the fish, I told myself. Coffee it is! I threw off the thin cover and padded towards the kitchen.

Filling a saucepan with water, I slide it on the stove and light it. I dig around the many tin boxes littering the shelf until I find the coffee container. Putting two scoops in my mug with sugar, I wait for the water to heat. I missed my electric kettle. Perhaps I could ask JT to fetch it for me?

No, no absolutely not. Never in a million years, my mind screamed at me, and I sighed in agreement. After what he did and how I behaved? There was just no way I could face him again, let alone ask for a favor.

Seriously, he had a girl and he led me on and I, ashamedly, fell for his charm. And if that wasn't bad enough, I draped myself all over him! I shook my head, chiding myself for the millionth time.

When the water was hot enough, I poured two teaspoons into my cup and beat the mixture into a creamy paste. All of my doubts, my anger, and my frustration was being directed at my coffee. My mind, of course, cannot stay blank for more than a minute. I had to re-analyze the dream I just woke up from. I just had to figure out what it meant!

I laughed uncomfortably at the direction my thoughts were taking. I had had a dream about god only knows who and it featured JT. It was that simple. There was nothing supernatural there. I was introducing the paranormal to give the dream more meaning than necessary. What was it that dream decoders often said? Ah yes, the distress a person feels in life is often projected in their dreams.

It had been two days since my last encounter with JT, the one you know... where I made an utter fool of myself by giving in so easily to a man whom I practically knew nothing about. Since then he had called numerous times, texted and even dropped by. I refused to speak with him, read his messages or meet with him.

Still embarrassed and bitter and yes, heartbroken – all those feelings were coming out in the dream. My dreams were related to my feelings, the events, however, were unreal. Yes, that had to be it!

For a moment I wondered if I would ever get over my embarrassment. Would I ever forgive myself or even JT for that matter? I groaned. Round and round and back to square one! There is no more JT. That chapter in my life is closed. He's spoken for, and I'm not a side chick. That's it! There will be no more reminiscing on what was or could have been. It was time for me to scold my mind into behaving!

It's just a dream, only a dream. I repeated in my head.

"Are you certain, my dear?"

The voice caught me by surprise, and I whirled around, dropping my mug and shattering it beyond repair.

There, standing in the doorway, was a person I had never seen before. But her voice was so familiar!