I am looking, from a seated position on the floor, around a partition at the legs of a woman. They are beautiful, perfectly formed and flawless. She's standing with her legs apart, and as my eye travels upward, noticing the loveliness as it goes, I see the space right between her legs and even see the little bit of flesh at her genitals that comes down, a small pink protrusion, also flawless, heartbreakingly beautiful. [I'm not noticing hair at all - actually I think she has pubic hair, but it's very fine and light.] I look up further, seeing that her body continues to be lovely, and now I see that she's looking into a mirror - she is actually Julia Roberts (with her hair long again) and she's looking at her breasts. She's just had surgery (I don't know for what, but it was cosmetic) and she's looking carefully at the black stitches, the redness and slight bruising. She touches them very lightly, and the look on her face is concerned, apprehensive, a little fearful, not sure she should be worried - she's been reassured that everything's going to be fine. It's very sweet, really. I feel sympathetic, warm towards her. As I'm looking at her, I slide out a bit around the edge of the mirror so I can see upward at her face better. There's a window not far behind her, curtained with sheers, so there's soft, diffused light (nearly my old green light), and there's a green plant nearby, maybe some flowers. I'm sure the mirror (it's a full-length oval, standing mirror) is in an ornate gold frame.