wedding dream...almost a nightmare

I had a very vivid dream about a wedding. It was mine, but unfortunately to the wrong guy. Started with a short scene in which my ex Jeff and I were together again--he was trying to make the moves on me--and I was feeling very reluctant and uncomfortable. I cringed at his touch or the thought of touching him.

Next scene I am in my wedding dress (yes, the original one from 1988), surrounded by the females in my family. They are putting the final touches on me as I am about to walk down the aisle to marry Jeff again. (In real life, our divorce has been final only one month.) This dream finds me in a state of mental turmoil. Something just isn't right. DUH!

I walk out of the dressing room to enter the area where all our guests are taking their seats preparing for the ceremony to begin. Where is my mother??! I am looking frantically for her. I happen to run into my sister. She confessed that Mom had gone to get favors for the tables because they looked so empty and non-festive. You see, no one had planned this wedding with love. It was a wedding of convenience, thrown together in a hurry.

Since I couldn't find Mom, I told my sister. I just had to tell someone! I said I can't do this. Jeff only wants to marry me so that it looks good on him. He wants to go into politics, you know. And I'm thinking all the while, Oh God, Mom's spending all of her own money on party favors for this wedding that's not going to happen. (You see, I'm practical even in my dreams.)

Fast forward...I am standing at the altar and my former husband/'husband-to-be' takes his place beside me. We are about to be married. The pressure is mounting. He is dressed in an old-fashioned British red coat uniform for some unknown reason, but I do notice that the tight white pants look good on him. (Ewww!)

At the last second I can bear it no more. I walk over to face the crowd of our families and friends. I tell them that I can't in good faith go ahead with this marriage. That the only reason Jeff wants to marry me (again) is so that he can present a good image for when he runs for office. I explained that I couldn't overlook that fact just for his benefit, and that marriage was too sacred a bond to mess with.

Deep down I knew that I must follow my heart, and that my heart was definitely elsewhere. It made me happy that I was true to myself even in my dreams. I just wish I could have added on my own end to the dream. One where Andy shows up and asks me to marry him in front of the whole crowd. Then everyone cheers because they recognize true love when they see it.

what's in a number?

October 10, 2010 will never come again. But I guess that's true of every other day on the calendar, too. What's with people's fascination with numbers? Do you know how many weddings took place on this date?

My friend's was one of them. He finally found the 'right one' he said when I saw him in August. His words warmed my heart because I could tell he was truly happy and excited to be marrying his lover. But he never pointed out the date 10-10-10, and I didn't realize it at the time.

I heard of another couple that insisted on tying the knot at 10:10am on that very day. OK, that's getting retarded. Are these people ruled by numbers? Maybe they're accountants. Or superstitious. Or trying their damnedest to make their marriage a perfect 10. And their marriage just might last until 11-11-11 or 12-12-12. I dunno. Who am I to judge? It just seems kind of juvenile.

If I get married to Andy I want it to be on an August 1st, the anniversary of the day we met again after 29 years. That was such a magical day. I remember we walked past a wedding party having photos taken on the steps of the art gallery as we crossed the street to the park. As we joked about telling them don't do it!, I secretly wondered if that could ever be us...and I can see it now. Was it an omen? Oh God, I sound like those number people!

once a widow

I witnessed something beautiful today.

Carol, my age, buried her husband 5 years ago. He'd been ill for a few months, but a full recovery was expected. One night she kissed him good night and left his hospital bed to return home to her 3 children. The phone rang as soon as she got home. He had died of a massive heart attack during her short drive home. Total shock.

It was devastating news to say the least. The funeral sent me into a tailspin. I'd been to enough funerals to learn how to deal with loss, and although I'd shed some tears, they never had a lasting affect on me. This one did, and I'll tell you why.

I was envious of their love. Of his love for her and their children. Something I had always wanted and couldn't seem to find in my marriage. She told me he used to grab her in the kitchen and they would slow dance. I never forgot that. When he died, I thought she had lost that forever. And I imagined how that felt. It was so wrong for love like that to die.

Today I saw Carol in an ivory gown. She was standing in the back of a church, her grown sons at her side. They were all dapper in their dark suits, giving their mother away to another man. This man who loved her so much he was willing to become a part of her family, take on her 3 children and weave himself into their lives.

I was amazed at their love for her, their acceptance of this man who would somewhat take their father's place, move into the home where they had lived with their dad, and sleep in the same bed their dad had slept with their mom.

Carol's 13 year old daughter stood before everyone in the church and sang "You Raise Me Up" to Carol and her husband. There wasn't a dry eye in the church.

The last time many of us had seen each other was at the funeral. We had come full circle and witnessed an extraordinary thing today. We saw love heal all.