The wedding nightmares, that is.
Back in September after the engagement, a good night’s sleep was rare. I tossed and turned about everything. Where should we have the wedding? How can we make this guest list smaller? Would the smokers hate me if they went outside to puff and it was snowing? And the reasons for no sleep didn’t stop there, as the dreams piled on. There was one when the bridesmaids, who were to be wearing gloves with their dresses, showed up in red, stretchy gloves. You know, the $.99 Target special. The mismatched gloves you wear two pair of because they are so thin they really don’t keep your hands warm. Yeah—not really what I envisioned in my wedding. And there was the one when my dad went to pick-up my dress from being steamed but it came back wrinklier than before but pictures were starting and there was nothing I could do about it (note: I really like my clothes to be pressed. One time Melissa busted me for ironing my pajamas. Hence, you can see how this dream really disturbed me).
There were more and I finally decided I needed to quit reading wedding magazines before I went to bed. And so I did. But for some reason last night, the wedding nightmares reoccurred. This time, none of my wedding party showed up except Shannon Hite (thanks, Shan). I was a little upset, but no biggie. I was a lot upset when I put my dress on (by myself because no one was there to help me) and it was a navy blue velvet bottom and maroonish, chiffonishy long-sleeved top with a large bow tied around the waist. Downright hideous. Gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it. Luckily I was saved by the alarm clock and the ugliest wedding dress of all time vanished into dreamland.
I'm thinking, and hoping, they'll stop. Yeah, in my dreams.
** This posting is from Wendy only. Trevor has normal, un-wedding related dreams. Wendy is jealous.