I coordinated a wedding for my friends Jack and Linnea last weekend,
and it was *awesome*–
really cool folks,
never even had to raise my voice to make sure things got done.
Hence the freakiness of this dream.
There is an open field,
with one lone oaktree in the middle of it.
In the vague way that dreams have,
there is also a building where the guests for a wedding are being seated.
I am backstage,
doing what I do–
getting people into places so they can saunter down the aisle.
It’s Jack and Linnea.
And this time,
their wedding party consists of very beautiful,
very horrid people
who don’t listen,
and don’t get ready on time,
and in general,
are just lousy.
I try to get their attention calmly,
but for some reason,
the noise level is so high,
and everything is so chaotic,
I begin screaming my head off.
And even while screaming,
no one hears me for a good long while.
I feel I have to explain myself,
say that I don’t like screaming,
which meets rolled eyes and “puh-leeze” expressions.
I finally manage to get the truculent bridal party into place,
and herd the parents and grandparents down the aisle.
Where they break out into a horrible bar song
about being from somewhere in Topeka.
As they’re doing this,
I look back,
and see the bridal party on stilts.
There may have been a monkey involved,
but I’m uncertain now.
All of this music is blaring from hidden speakers on their now-spangly wedding outfits,
and all of the women are wearing enormous, Ziegfield-follies-sized feather headresses,
which are molting all over the guests…
One of the pyramid-stilt-trapezes comes narrowly close to hitting me,
and then my phone begins to ring.
Which is the faux pas of the century for me,
since I always turn it off at weddings,
and as I fumble with it,
I realize it’s friend Regan,
calling about a shoot tomorrow…
and I wake up.
Totally and completely relieved
that I didn’t,
lose it at a wedding.