I had a weird dream this morning. You know those few minutes you fall back asleep after your alarm goes off and you realize that nothing will happen to keep you from going to work today (i.e., another snow day, perhaps)? Well that was when my dream occurred.
Now, I don’t normally share my dreams, because they are so creepy and violent that people will think that I am just one crucial moment from short circuiting and killing everyone around me with the nearest object, which currently is a paper clip and mango scented candle.
But this one isn’t violent, just odd, and kind of funny. So I can share, and no one will have to live in fear that if that guy comes in and makes one more smartass remark about the printer being broken that I will wipe Carlsbad, NM off the map.
It starts in some random room I don’t recognize with a bunch of people who I don’t recognize. The way they are surrounding me and taking pictures and poking and prodding, I realize they are there to attend my wedding, and are helping me dress.
And for some reason, my dress looks like it came straight off the Chiquita Banana Lady.
Headdress full of fruit included.
So it is determined that I am ready for my nuptials, and as I walk out of that tiny room into another tiny room, I can’t help but notice that I don’t recognize anybody, because apparently they are all the family of my soon-to-be husband. My family is nowhere to be found.
However, this is actually a less important point, the more important being that I don’t recognize the guy I’m marrying either, but he looks about 18, and has a bright red tank top tucked into his bright red shorts. Awesome.
Now, it wasn’t brought up in the dream, but I must have been pregnant. This kid must have somehow charmed me out of my pants and knocked me up, and now we are having a shotgun wedding. Or, even more likely, he threatened to kill my family if I didn’t follow through with his ridiculous wedding fetish. I mean, I may be convinced to wear a Chiquita Banana Lady outfit, WITH the headdress, but I could hardly be convinced to marry a kid who looks like he was drawn out of a Popeye cartoon.
So the ceremony lasts roughly 30 seconds, and then it’s time for the reception. We have no transportation to get us to the location of the reception, perhaps because my now husband isn’t old enough to drive, but it turns out that doesn’t matter.
The reception is taking place on the front lawn of whatever house we are at, and includes exciting games of Red Rover for the girls, and a water balloon fight for the boys.
Now, I must mention that on our way out from what I’ll call the ceremonial room to the reception area (front lawn), I ran into my parents. Somehow I missed them before, but they look as thrilled about this wedding as I would be in reality. But they figure I must love him, so they sit back and let me make the biggest mistake of my life.
Either that, or they are there as hostages, in case I get cold feet. That is much more likely, I think.
Now, finally, as I watch my new husband abandon me for a water balloon fight, and watch some random girls start playing Red Rover, I feel most like myself, and myself is TOTALLY PISSED. I don’t care why I married this guy, he is not just going to abandon me to have a water balloon fight with his buddies ON OUR WEDDING DAY.
So I traipse through the grass in my gigantic colorful dress and hunt him down. I find him on an upper terrace, launching balloons with the extra benefit of higher ground. Clearly, he has played this before.
He sees me standing with my hand on my hip, and he looks at me, and asks, in all seriousness:
“Are you mad at me?”
Now, in real life (assuming that somehow all this happened up to this question) I would have to invent words to truly express the anger I felt. However, this is a dream, and in my dream, I say nothing, he leans over to kiss me, and my headdress falls off.
Then I wake up to find that I overslept for 45 minutes, and still have to go to work.
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