THE WEDDING PLANNER
Dreams you don't want to come true
• The Wedding Planner's Web log
By Tanya Bricking
Advertiser Staff Writer
Monday, Sept. 15, 2003
When I was a kid, my neighborhood friend and I found a roll of raffle tickets and decided to give one to everyone on the block as admission to our Sunday afternoon puppet show.
Then we promptly forgot about it.
Sunday afternoon came, and when my family got home from church, a line of neighbors stood there waiting to be entertained.
My friend was nowhere to be found.
My mother was not amused. Unprepared for guests and probably on the verge of grounding me, she gave me the worst possible punishment: She told me the show must go on.
I performed, poking puppets in the air from behind my dad's bar in the family room, and I tried to make them talk through my tears. For years, it was my most embarrassing moment on record.
Lately, weirdly, my dreams have reminded me of that childhood day of shame.
In one dream, my fiancé got mad on the day of our wedding and left me at the altar to go drinking with my brother. (When I woke up and told him about it, he jokingly said something along the lines of: "What's wrong with that?")
There was another dream where I was kissing the wrong guy. (I was afraid to tell my honey about that one... What did that dream mean?)
I'm just waiting to close my eyes and dream I'm walking down the aisle naked because I forgot to get dressed, or something equally humiliating.
Even awake, I have irrational wedding worries.
What if we forget the rings? Or if we forget the prayers during Mass just when people are looking at us? What if I faint? What if I trip? What if there's a hurricane?
I guess it's just as well if my anxiety manifests itself while I'm asleep, because I don't like to obsess about such things while I'm awake.
If I could just order up a flying dream, that would be pretty cool. Aren't those dreams supposed to be good omens?
No more left-at-the-altar dreams, please. And, OK, no more dreams about me kissing other people. And no puppets.
Just insomnia.
Tanya Bricking writes about relationships for The Advertiser. Reach her at tbricking@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8026.
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