Torture by Dream Report

I had a dream last night that I was getting married. The ceremony was in a big empty auditorium, something like a converted gymnasium, full of long tables and plastic chairs, like a school cafeteria. I'd been there before, but only in dreams, it seems.

Everything about the ceremony was half-assed and tossed together. The organist, on a casio keyboard mounted to a portable boom box, kept playing the opening notes of "Here Comes the Bride," over and over and over, but never got to the part where the bride comes. The march went down between tables and chairs. There was no bridal party, and no one gave anyone away.

I was marrying Melissa, my girlfriend from high school. She had a white dress. The priest was a young dark-haried woman, and she read her lines from a pamphlet mounted to the podeum for show, and she couldn't quite angle her head enough to read them right.

Afterward I sat at the table with Melissa's relatives, two sisters, aunts perhaps, and they mocked the wedding, and criticized everything I'd felt ashamed about. Suddenly, I raged against them and decided the wedding was fine, and I went out in search of my family. I found them at another table, and soon woke up.

And yet, I rather liked the dream. I've been having a lot of dreams that I rather prefer to waking up.

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