I am a very vivid dreamer. I talk in my sleep, I scream in my sleep, I flail about and have such incredibly realistic, vivid, outrageous dreams that sometimes, it feels like I actually didn't sleep at all. I wake up exhausted more often than not. I blame my overactive imagination that will one day lead me to writing a series of bestselling novels.
This isn't a new phenomenon, but lately - as in, since Christmas - I've noticed a common theme. Gone are the dreams about eating onion rings with sparkly vampire boyfriends from the TV and solving murder mystery crimes with Robert Downey Junior while my teeth fall out in the car that's parked in front of my friend Amanda's house. All of my wacky, unsettling dreams seem to have one common theme:
Things That Will go Horribly Horribly Wrong at Our Wedding.
I'm up to a handful of dreams about walking down the aisle with a wrinkled, dirty dress and veil. I've dreamed about one certain witchy girl I went to High School with showing up with her stupid smug face in a wedding gown and attempting to underhandedly replace me in the starring role of Bride by resetting the clocks in my house and then shoving me in a broom closet.
But mostly, I've had several really awful dreams about my hair. Bad hair. Poodle hair. We've all decided to wear our hair in topsy-tailed ponies. I've shaved half of my head. I've cut it into the Beiber 'Do I was rocking in March. It's all fallen out. I walk down the aisle with it soaking wet. I've run the gamut of bad hair wedding dreams, and frankly, it's freaking me out.
But I have come to a conclusion.
Apparently, what I'm telling myself when I'm totally unawares, is that I should manage my expectations. I'll get down that aisle, damn it, wrinkled dress or smug faced cheating bride impostors aside. This is me we're talking about - I wouldn't be surprised if on that day, I ended up with a mysterious yogurt stain somewhere on the train of that gown (that may or may not have a train, Gary nevermind that last sentence). But these things, they are not important. I will learn to be zen and let all of those things go, because wrinkled satin (or not satin, maybe it's chiffon, or taffeta, see above statement Gary) or not, at the end of it, we shall be married.
But damn it, I have got to do something about my current haircut.
2 days ago