You may know about the classic actor's nightmare, in which just about anyone who's ever been in a play will dream that they suddenly have to perform in that play again, despite having forgotten every line, entrance, and costume change. I have it more than you imagine, and it's always about theatre, never about music. This past week, however, the wedding nightmares have begun.
It started with a dramatic "Graduate"-style scene, except reversed. David is, shall we say, popular with the ladies. That's being subtle, really. He's not a tramp or anything -- not even close -- but I've made a few enemies out there by sweeping him off his feet and making an honest man out of him. And so, in this nightmare, a bunch of ladies do the whole disturb-the-church-by-knocking-and-screaming-through-a-pane-of-glass routine. Girls, let me tell you now: It doesn't work, not even in the nightmare. Besides, we're not getting married in a church, so you'll have to learn how to climb trees if you want to create a scene. (By the way, just try it. It'll make a good story for our grandkids.)
Last night I had more stressful dreams than that. More stressful than a bunch of crazies interrupting the ceremony, and trying to steal the love of my life, you say? I'm embarrassed to say that in this dream, I cared -- and cared a lot -- about flowers and decorations.* My bouquet showed up, entirely made of white calla lillies. It was beautiful, but it wasn't what we'd talked about. In reality, should that happen, I don't think I'd care one way or another. But in last night's dream, I was in tears. Then something happened with my dress, and then suddenly Rudy from the Cosby Show was late in giving me a ride to the ceremony. It became complicated.
The worst thing about nightmares is waking up and feeling like you didn't get any sleep at all. The best thing about them is waking up.
Anyway, we've got three weeks to go. All the little things are falling into place, bit by bit. You know how I just adore details.
Read something even funnier on David's blog: http://louisvilleky.com/2011/07/bachelor-party-extravaganza/
* I do care about these things in real life, and I want them to be pretty. We all know, however, that visual design is not my strongest talent. I like pretty flowers, but I don't know how to arrange them. That equals stress to me.
It started with a dramatic "Graduate"-style scene, except reversed. David is, shall we say, popular with the ladies. That's being subtle, really. He's not a tramp or anything -- not even close -- but I've made a few enemies out there by sweeping him off his feet and making an honest man out of him. And so, in this nightmare, a bunch of ladies do the whole disturb-the-church-by-knocking-and-screaming-through-a-pane-of-glass routine. Girls, let me tell you now: It doesn't work, not even in the nightmare. Besides, we're not getting married in a church, so you'll have to learn how to climb trees if you want to create a scene. (By the way, just try it. It'll make a good story for our grandkids.)
Last night I had more stressful dreams than that. More stressful than a bunch of crazies interrupting the ceremony, and trying to steal the love of my life, you say? I'm embarrassed to say that in this dream, I cared -- and cared a lot -- about flowers and decorations.* My bouquet showed up, entirely made of white calla lillies. It was beautiful, but it wasn't what we'd talked about. In reality, should that happen, I don't think I'd care one way or another. But in last night's dream, I was in tears. Then something happened with my dress, and then suddenly Rudy from the Cosby Show was late in giving me a ride to the ceremony. It became complicated.
The worst thing about nightmares is waking up and feeling like you didn't get any sleep at all. The best thing about them is waking up.
Anyway, we've got three weeks to go. All the little things are falling into place, bit by bit. You know how I just adore details.
Read something even funnier on David's blog: http://louisvilleky.com/2011/07/bachelor-party-extravaganza/
* I do care about these things in real life, and I want them to be pretty. We all know, however, that visual design is not my strongest talent. I like pretty flowers, but I don't know how to arrange them. That equals stress to me.
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