The wedding of my dreams
No, not the dream wedding where I’m filthy rich and the ceiling is dripping in exotic flowers. I’m talking about the wedding of my actual, keep-me-up-at-night dreams.
I knew this would happen. It happened before Prom, before I left for college, etc. Dreams that I am totally and completely unprepared. That the big event and snuck up on me and I didn’t complete my to-do list.
The night before last, in my dreams, we had three ceremonies at three different churches, each followed by a reception where we served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But the real horror of this nightmare was that no one realized that the photographer hadn’t shown up until after the second reception! And I was frantically flipping through the pages of business cards I have saved and couldn’t find a card for the photographer anywhere. Yeah.
So the next morning I finished preparing my vendor contact sheet which includes names and numbers for anybody whose anybody. I was just going to keep one with me. Now I’m printing them and giving out copies for everyone!!! Someone, please, make sure the photographer is there at the beginning of the day and for the love of Christ lets serve something better than PB & J. I assume this part of the dream can be blamed on our tasting session with the caterer which is now a week away. I had a dream awhile back that we served soft pretzels and nacho cheese. I don’t know which is worse.
Last night’s wedding nightmare was even better. Everyone was in the church. It was time. The bridesmaids went down the aisle and then it was my turn. But I couldn’t find my dad. The wedding coordinator says, “he’s just finishing up fixing your brother’s truck and he’ll be right in.” Oke doke. It didn’t seem to bother me. So my Pa waltzes in still sporting his jeans and polo shirt. I tell him I think that’s more appropriate than a tux anyway. In this dream, I am not bridezilla.
So, Dad and I take our places at the door and the music strikes up. Its the wrong song. I whisper to the lady behind me who appears to be opperating a computer based sound system. ‘That’s the wrong song. Play number 4.”
She strikes up number 4. Its Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. I don’t know what that means. She tries again and Johnny Cash starts singing Sunday Morning Coming Down. (Worse bridal processional option EVER.) So I leave my post at the end of the aisle and run over to fix the music myself. My processional song is nowhere to be found. “Pick again, hurry!” my dad yells. So I pick again. And I pick Sweet Child of Mine which I seem to think is genious. And so down the aisle we go to Guns N Roses.
But, this is the worst part. We are processing and I’m smiling the biggest smile and trying to nod to special guests and everyone is….well…indifferent to my presence. They all stand up. But they are looking around at the ceiling or chatting amongst themselves. One guest is even filing her fingernails. I won’t call her out on this blog (Cathy Buck) its not like she did it in real life. I’m not saying I want everyone to stand and cheer for heaven’s sake! I don’t even need any oohs or ahhs. But for cryin out load if everyone could at least look at the bride!!! Or at least the father of the bride in his polo shirt! Jeeze. Me, not the center of attention? Truly a nightmare.
And we still have 6 months to go…
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