I am not a dreamer.
Now, I don't mean I don't have wishes, and hopes, and those kinds of dreams.
I have plenty of those.
But actual dreams, the ones occurring at night while I'm snuggled in, enjoying some deep REM cycles. I rarely have those. Or at least, I rarely remember having them.
But every now and then I will have one that I do remember. When this happens I am usually so confused by the fact that I actually had a dream that I can't figure out if it really happened. I've had to make a phone call or check Facebook on more than one occasion to confirm that I did NOT in fact learn that my friend's husband was in a porno flick via Facebook chat or convince my cousin to get a face tattoo.
My most recent panicked awakening was the result of a much more terrifying nightmare.
I dreamed about my wedding.
This is startling for several reasons. Least of all because I am dating about four different people at the moment. I have never been one of those girls who "dreams" about her wedding. I wasn't draping a pillowcase over my head and playing "wedding" as a little girl. I was playing "career woman" clomping around the house in my Mom's high heels and dragging her brief case down the hall.
I tend to think of my wedding in more of a fleeting manner.
As in, "Gee that's a pretty dress. I might like something similar to that." or "Gawd, those are tacky save the dates. Note to self... DON'T do that!" Alternatively there is, "Boy, do I love throwing a good party! My reception will be off the hooooook!" and "Hmmm... I wonder if I booked Sundy Best for an undisclosed date in the future if they would let me pay 2012 prices for a 2020 wedding...?"
Evidently, my subconscious has been doing A LOT more thinking on this issue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Off in Dreamland~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm all alone getting dressed in my wedding dress. This should be the first clue that something is wrong because my Mom, Cournado, the Fab Four, and various others would be there helping me get dressed if this were a real life wedding. But I'm alone.
I step into the dress and it is beautiful, though not something I ever thought I would want, but have since reconsidered. The top has beautiful woven designs and there are narrow strips of red that come across the shoulder and are woven into the bodice. I start to zip the the dress and realize it is about three sizes to large.
And I panic. I am clutching the dress to me. Running around the room. Screaming for my Mom.
I run out into the hallway (I'm apparently getting married in a mansion. Interesting, I always assumed I'd get married in a church...) where I see hundreds of guests milling around drinking cocktails. Yes, hundreds of guest. I am very popular with lots of best friends.
The mother of a girl I knew from high school takes one look at me in my dress that is three sizes to be big and says, "Crigger, you are a pretty girl, but that dress is too big. And it looks like ugly Princess Diana."
To which I respond, very sarcastically, "That's really helpful! Thanks! Royal Family would never have allowed her to show her bare shoulders in the church of England!"
Then I ran down the hallway flipping her off the whole way.
I finally find my Mom back in the bridal room. I explain the situation to her and she very calmly assures me that hotel must have an emergency seamstress. So now the mansion is also a hotel? Which usually has brides freaking out needing last minute alterations. Of course.
I look at the clock and see that it says 7:31.
"But Mom the wedding is supposed to start at 7:30! Everyone will be mad that I've made them wait."
"Don't worry. We have an open bar. We'll give people some booze and they'll be fine."
Now, I don't mean I don't have wishes, and hopes, and those kinds of dreams.
I have plenty of those.
But actual dreams, the ones occurring at night while I'm snuggled in, enjoying some deep REM cycles. I rarely have those. Or at least, I rarely remember having them.
But every now and then I will have one that I do remember. When this happens I am usually so confused by the fact that I actually had a dream that I can't figure out if it really happened. I've had to make a phone call or check Facebook on more than one occasion to confirm that I did NOT in fact learn that my friend's husband was in a porno flick via Facebook chat or convince my cousin to get a face tattoo.
My most recent panicked awakening was the result of a much more terrifying nightmare.
I dreamed about my wedding.
This is startling for several reasons. Least of all because I am dating about four different people at the moment. I have never been one of those girls who "dreams" about her wedding. I wasn't draping a pillowcase over my head and playing "wedding" as a little girl. I was playing "career woman" clomping around the house in my Mom's high heels and dragging her brief case down the hall.
I tend to think of my wedding in more of a fleeting manner.
As in, "Gee that's a pretty dress. I might like something similar to that." or "Gawd, those are tacky save the dates. Note to self... DON'T do that!" Alternatively there is, "Boy, do I love throwing a good party! My reception will be off the hooooook!" and "Hmmm... I wonder if I booked Sundy Best for an undisclosed date in the future if they would let me pay 2012 prices for a 2020 wedding...?"
Evidently, my subconscious has been doing A LOT more thinking on this issue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Off in Dreamland~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm all alone getting dressed in my wedding dress. This should be the first clue that something is wrong because my Mom, Cournado, the Fab Four, and various others would be there helping me get dressed if this were a real life wedding. But I'm alone.
I step into the dress and it is beautiful, though not something I ever thought I would want, but have since reconsidered. The top has beautiful woven designs and there are narrow strips of red that come across the shoulder and are woven into the bodice. I start to zip the the dress and realize it is about three sizes to large.
And I panic. I am clutching the dress to me. Running around the room. Screaming for my Mom.
I run out into the hallway (I'm apparently getting married in a mansion. Interesting, I always assumed I'd get married in a church...) where I see hundreds of guests milling around drinking cocktails. Yes, hundreds of guest. I am very popular with lots of best friends.
The mother of a girl I knew from high school takes one look at me in my dress that is three sizes to be big and says, "Crigger, you are a pretty girl, but that dress is too big. And it looks like ugly Princess Diana."
To which I respond, very sarcastically, "That's really helpful! Thanks! Royal Family would never have allowed her to show her bare shoulders in the church of England!"
Then I ran down the hallway flipping her off the whole way.
I finally find my Mom back in the bridal room. I explain the situation to her and she very calmly assures me that hotel must have an emergency seamstress. So now the mansion is also a hotel? Which usually has brides freaking out needing last minute alterations. Of course.
I look at the clock and see that it says 7:31.
"But Mom the wedding is supposed to start at 7:30! Everyone will be mad that I've made them wait."
"Don't worry. We have an open bar. We'll give people some booze and they'll be fine."
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