Saturday, November 13, 2010

My wedding day.

Last night I dreamed that I awoke in a room, on a couch, surrounded by four or five of my lifelong friends. We had apparently been out drinking the night before. We were in my house (but, of course, it wasn't my house). As I rubbed my eyes, one of my friends grabbed me by the shoulders and excitedly shouted, "Today's the day!" It was my wedding day. I had to get washed up and ready for my wedding. I was elated and a little nervous about my wedding. I showered, put on a tuxedo, massaged some gel into my hair. The phone rang: it was my mother, calling to make sure I had remembered to shave. I hadn't. There was no shaving cream in the medicine cabinet, and only a leg razor next to the sink in the bathroom. After some deliberation, with time running out (I was reminded repeatedly by my friends that I was late), I decided to try scraping off my stubble with the leg razor and no cream. It didn't work, and I cut myself. Time was up. I had to go. I half-jogged out of the bathroom to the car waiting for me outside. It was a long jog--my dream house's driveway was enormous. As I jogged I tried to remember my fiancee's name, but couldn't. I started to get a little nervous, imagining how embarrassing it would be to show up at the church and stand at the end of the aisle if I couldn't at least remember the name of my very-soon-to-be wife. I imagined the scenario, but couldn't complete the image in my mind, because I simply couldn't remember what she looked like. Now I was worried. Getting into the car, I strained my mind as hard as I could but found it impossible to conjure even the most vague image of the woman I was about to marry. While my friends popped corks around me and passed flasks joyously, internally I found myself slipping into sheer terror. Trying to jog my memory, I thought of important moments in our relationship--the proposal! Yes, how had I proposed? But there was nothing. I had no memory of ever proposing to this nameless, faceless fiancee of mine. I started to sweat. What was I doing? Should I be getting married? How could I simply forget these things? I started to hyperventilate. My friends kept celebrating.

And then I woke up--in a very bad mood.