Talking about dreams is boring for everyone but the dreamer.
EXCEPT WHEN THE DREAMER IS MARRYING HIS SISTER.
Yes, I had a terrifying dream last night. I was in a tux backstage at a wedding. I don’t know what the secret area is named for a wedding even though I had my own once. But I am in a band and we do occasionally hang out backstage. Anyway, I was there, and I was nervous. Then panicked. Finally I was screaming and crying at the same time.
Yes, today was the day I was marrying my sister.
Everything about it felt wrong, but there I was. I had the corsage and everything. I was pleading with my family who seemed to be the ones making this thing happen. I was crying and yelling that this isn’t right and I couldn’t marry my kin. (Man, I can’t say that word enough – it works every time.) With every plead there was a logical answer about why it made sense to unite with my sister. She was lonely, I was lonely – we knew each other well – blood should marry blood. These were the reasons provided to me.
Then I hit them with my trump card.
“But,” I said with great confidence, “Surely you wouldn’t have me and my sister procreate! Why, the children would be mutants!”
There’s no comeback to this – the science is pretty clear about banging family members. It’s not suggested.
“Oh, that’s hogwash,” my parents dismissed. “That’s just something the British made up hundreds of years ago. There’s no evidence to suggest that anything bad happens.”
Hmm… I was not going to win this one.
I seriously screamed and yelled and cried at the top of my lungs as one would when the argument of genetic abnormality falls on deaf ears.
The wedding dream ended with a wake-up trip to the bathroom alone in the dark. Yes, I sat like a woman.
I was at this big event just milling about by myself. Even in my dreams I’m lonely.
So, I started walking around and talking to people and just being social. Everyone’s nice enough. But since I can never have a dream where fear and anxiety don’t play a roll, things quickly took a painful turn.
There was Britney Spears walking by herself. She looked shorter that I would have thought. A bonafide celebrity. I ran over to her and tried to grab her for a moment. She was walking to something and I basically had to stop her. All I wanted was a photo. And to put my arms around her and hold her tenderly but firm, like a man. Okay, that last part isn’t true. I just wanted a photo.
The trollop turned me down! But not just a normal dismissal. First she stared me right into the eye through to my soul. And she did not like the info that came back form that journey. She looked at me we disgust and just said, “Uh, no.” I was crushed.
But at least it happened once again, minutes later! I ran into Paris Hilton.
Now, we both have Paris in our names. That’s something! Obviously she would want to hang out and take a photo. This second trollop did the same thing as the first trollop!
As she was walking quickly away from me I tried to reason with her. “But both are names are Paris! If you married me, you’d be Paris Paris! That’s funny! Right?” She was gone.
Rejected by two celebrities in the same dream. Sadly, this is probably exactly how it would go in real life, too.
If you’d like to share a disturbing dream I won’t feel so alone. Maybe you made out with your high school biology teacher, Mrs. Greenblatt who was rocking 67 at the time. Or you had one where you gave birth to four chimps. Tell us about the time your teeth fell out and when you picked them up you were ashamed because they were butter-yellow.