What Dreams Are Made Of

I keep having this dream about one of my best friends, Erin - but this time it was longer and more detailed - about why she didn't ask me to be in her wedding. After all, she'd been my maid of honor (false in real life) and I had every RIGHT to be a dad-gum bridesmaid! So, this dream I keep having seems odd as I was not only at her real wedding - I was in it.

This time in the dream, I decided to get drunk and crash the rehearsal dinner at some convention center painted white with lots of rickety lattice work and fake ivy. Naturally, there was a covered circle drive and a fountain where I came upon her mom, Linda, greeting people at the front door. I was crying, totally sloppy, ranting at her about not being invited - completely hurt and deflated to find special, hired security to keep me out of the party. Linda explained with a sharp, aloof tone, "Ashley, different people are governed by different laws according to where they live! I can't help you! You'll have to leave."

So, after several failed attempts to get inside the rehearsal dinner, where Erin was wearing a dreadful, cheap, lace wedding dress (to rehearse in) with one of those giant wads of tulle affixed to the side of her hair circa 1981 - I somehow ended up being escorted straight into the fountain in the middle of the circle drive. But being soaked head to toe didn't mean the driver of the limo parked close by knew I wasn't an invited guest. So, at least I rode home in style.

I don't know who these people are in the photo, but I'm sure they were there. And I bet the next time I have this dream, Erin will reconsider. Nobody wants me to show up to crash the party with a loaded pistol. But I will do whatever it takes to be in the wedding, apparently.