Tatiana Talks

Only in My Dreams

In the past three weeks I have had, count ‘em, three separate “dreams” about my wedding.

I put dreams in quotation marks because really, they were more like nightmares.

In the first, I was supposed to marry Barack Obama, but my brother went missing and everyone from my family, with the exception of Lana, was late. Apparently, I was late too and so I had to crawl through the church’s ceiling to get to the back so Barack wouldn’t see me and I didn’t have time that morning to wash or fix my hair so some old man that lived in the church was pinning my hair under a white hat, all the while muttering that the lady down the street makes much nicer hats.

In the second one, we were in some sort of Gothic-looking cathedral. This time my dress was much nicer, an ivory-colored number, but it was soaked through as I had been standing in the rain waiting for my guests to arrive. The only people that there were my immediate family, and the dream ended with me shivering in a pew, leaning against my father, waiting for the priest and the groom.

The third happened last night. I was wearing a purplish-gray mermaid cut dress with lots of ruffles around the bottom. It was after my wedding, though I have no idea whom I married. Bridie and I were drinking cocktails in the private room where the wedding party has to hide during the cocktail hour when a hideous looking woman in an even uglier get-up walked by the two-way mirror we were using to judge my guests. I immediately moved to exit our secret room when Bridie stopped me and asked me what I was doing. I pulled my arm away from her and exclaimed that I had to find my photographer and make sure that he didn’t take any pictures of that woman.

From my 30 years of existence, I cannot recall one other dream about my wedding.

While I am not a believer that if one dreams about their teeth falling out it someone they know is going to die, I do believe dreams have significance and can provide some insight into what is going on in your life. So I googled "wedding dreams."

Turns out it is pretty common to have anxiety dreams about your wedding – that is if you are getting married. I double checked my ring finger on my left hand in case I forgot I had gotten engaged during one of my holiday debaucheries.

Nope, no diamond there.

So the other explanation is that it is a wish fulfillment dream – and as I am single, the wish is that I was in a serious, committed relationship.

But, shouldn’t wish fulfillment dreams be nice? Shouldn’t I have been wearing white leather pants, and a sequin top and standing in front of an Elvis Impersonator, surrounded by my family and friends and happy and satisfied and glowing? Why are my wedding dreams dark and fraught with drama?

This thought was bouncing around the back of my head when I should have been working but instead was texting with my father. He asked me how my soccer league was going and when I told him I hadn’t gone yet because it had been so cold and only boys were showing up his response was, “but that sounds ideal for meeting someone.”

Just like that, the heavens opened up, a beam of light shone down on my BlackBerry and I could hear all the choirs of angels and saints singing Hallelujah.

These aren’t my wish fulfillment dreams. They are anxiety dreams of my inability to fulfill everyone around me’s wish. Of course I am used to my mother calling me with the sole purpose of ascertaining whether or not I had met someone, and if not – when was I going to. Bridie is ga-ga for her new Beau and so she too, surely just wanting me to be as happy as she, has been gently nudging me.

And now my father? Is it any wonder I am dreaming about getting married to the President in a dress I bought at David’s Bridal that was obviously too short on me?