Anxiety Dream

I had my first anxiety dream about getting married last night. It involved the actual ceremony taking so long to perform, that it went far into the night. People started to drift away out of sheer boredom, having better things to do. Rings kept getting lost and the procedure interrupted by arriving and departing guests.

To make matters worse, the groom was not wearing his suit. He was wearing a dingy white tunic robe. He kept morphing into some other body that was shorter than me by about a foot, bald and rotund. In fact, I think he kept turning into a particular bald guru-guy on the local Public Access channel who wears a white robe and sits in a chair in front of the camera speaking with slow condescension about things spiritual (readers from this area will know to whom I'm referring). I was getting married to that guy. And when I started to cry, because he wasn't wearing his suit, people chastised me for being demanding with my to-be husband. They suggested I was losing sight of what I was really there for.

I was there to marry a four foot tall, pasty-white, bald public access guru who doesn't have the decency to put on a tolerable suit for his wedding? Reminds me of the women in my family admonishing me endlessly as a girl that I could "catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." You mean, men are flies, and women are supposed to not only be content with that, but to want to actually attract the buzzy creatures? Is that what it's all about?

Pass the vinegar, please.

The anxiety dreams were bound to start right about this time. I'm just amazed that first one didn't involve me putting on tremendous amounts of weight and being unable to get into my dress. According to the targeted advertising that keeps popping up on my Facebook page, this is what I'm supposed to be fretting over in my nocturnal musings. I'm going to have to quiz the groom to see what -- if any -- anxiety dreams he's having. Surely he must be. Then again, he's far less inclined toward angsty obsessions than I am.