I would like to claim that purple buzz-cut lady was my good self, but if would be a Jack lie.
However, if you ever dream of a small (not quite smol, I'm afraid), almost spherical harridan, with wild, untidy shortish hair sticking up like she has her fingers in an electric socket (I shaved it eight months ago because I was sick of combing it every morning, and it is growing out), with a little pack of spaniels and an over-the-shoulder umbrella with a very stabby ferrule, then that will be me. I will probably have a bag full of pumbles to fling at guset.
I would love to be in someone's dream even in a very pedestrian role. It has been many decades since anyone dreamed of me without waking up screaming, I would think.