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gabriel
Love and ferrets and pretending to be a writer.

2004-02-02 4:15 AM
If you hate other people's dreams or typoes, do not read this journal entry

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Mood:
morning

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The ferrets are: starting to wake up.

Weather: January. No, February. Same thing.

Reading: Singularity Sky, Charles Stross

Listening to in the car: Saint Maybe, Anne Tyler

Other people have such incredibly stupid dreams, or long-drawn out ones. This one is both. The "you" in this dream is my husband, my own true love, Gregg.

Wew were going to get married at 6:30 int he evening. The friends, relatives and kibbitzers were gathered in the auditorium. There was to be a concert afterwards, not just because of us, I'm sure, but if we ran late then it'd goof up the concert. THe orchestra was gettign ready, the people there for the wedding were gettitng ready. I was trying to get ready.

Maggie messed up my bathroom and I couldn't find anything. She had like moved in and made a big mess, taken over, strewed her stuff and my stuff all over the place. I was so mad at her, so frutrated. It was like real life when I cna't do anything because all of these other Things, these activities, these distractions, these objects and missing objects, get in the way, take over, knock me down.

I needed to wash my hair. THis part of the dream was closely connected with reality. But there wasn't time as it was darned near 6:30. I needed to wash my hair, but I coulnd't find the shampoo and there wasn't time. I had to get dresed. THen I was going to get dressed and forget about the hair. I couldn't find my dress. It was a long ivory dress, or cream-color which I don't look too great in , but in the dream i would look great in it, I knew. Except for my hair, whcih looked like shit. I strung my hands through it, getting it to be more organized. It dind't work. It was sticking out. It was stiff, it was frizzy, it drigfted all at once and in alternation and in different places. I had to wash it but there was no time. I was in my slip, I was crabbing at Maggie whoi was unaffected. SHe was unaffected and ineffective, looking for her stuff, getting her makeup on, trying to appease me. I waas so angry with her. Directed at her, when I was probably angry mainly with myself.

So. I was in hate with myself for losing my dress and for not being ready. TThis was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and i was wrechking it for my own self. It was getting later, it was late. I was running around in my slip. My slip was a slim fitting sheath, not a slip-looking slip. Maybe it was hung up in the closet, at the back. THere was a plastic bag. (This is an exhasuting dream; that, too, is related to reality, as I couldn't sleep, or thought I couldnt' till I was having this dream , whcih clearly indicates that I was asleep) A plastic bag hanging in the back of the closet, whichm in fact, there is. My dress had to be in there. I looked, and it wasn't. Then later it was. (Awake, it is really an evening gown that I haven't worn since January of last year, a very neat dress, and probably my first evening gown ever but it's not really a gown gown, just a neat dress- later with that.)

After a time, when it was about ten till eight, you came in in a rush. You were young and slim and your hair was a little too long, like in your pictures, I never saw you loking like that. THen I think I was young and slim, too. How this can be? Dreams are illogical. ANyway, you were wearing a bowling shirt and said you had been at the races. You kissed me and said you needed to wash your hair. I didn't see you wash your hair. But you did need to. You started getting dressed.

When I looked at you I was relaxed and happy; when I looked at Maggie I was tense and angry. I looked back and forth. (Now this is not so -- I don't get mad when I look at or think about Maggie. I used to, but she doens't live with me any more. SHe is growed up. I remember when she asked me whether I would rathe live with you, some stranger, some boyfrirned, or her, my very own daughter, my flesh and blood. ANd I told her soemthing like, "Let's see. ONe treats me with politeness and respect accepatance and love; one treats me with discourtesy -- rudeness -- and demands. It's a hard decision!" This was right before I, in a role reversal, moved out and left her to her own devices, and her won boyfriend who she was with all the time anyway. leaving me all alone anyway.)

I decidedr to wash my hair and heck if it was wet for the wedding. TIme was stuck at five til eight. THe concert was going on. Good. they had not waitied.

I stripped off something. I am not sure what, and stood in my slip, that i had been wearing all along, and stuck my haid ( I thought of it as a haid, which is not the way I talk) in the sink and got it all wet. I asked Maggie to hand me that shampoo and I rubbed it in, scrubbed it in and waitied for the suds. THey did not happen. I asked Maggie whether it was the shampoo. HSe said it was the conditioner. THis was the first she had spoken. I don't hear people in dreams, but I can tell what they're saying, or I think that I can. Liek in real life.

Somehow I got my hair washed, and mostly it was dry when I was done and i was plased with the way it looked, all soft curls and soft and some wispy flyways but I dind't mind: I was getting married to my true love, my grinning true love. SMiling, not grinning. SMiling. For me.

I grabbed the dress and we ran down the side of the darkened auditorium, I said I'd show you the way to backstage. Yoiu tried to go int he wrong door, as if you were oging up on stage, but I pulled you along.

Gayle was conducting. She saw me, made eye contact with me, and nodded,

We ran into the back and I pulled off my slip or something off over my haid and pulled the rustling dress on over my head. I had long gloves that matched it. It was sleevely (No, sleeveless, but I like that word I made up) and bare. There were people runnign overhead, on the bleacers or stair that were too narrow and right over my haid and I usualy hate those things,a nd fear them, but I was concentrating heavily to get dressed, to marry you. I had the wrong shoes, earlier, but then I had ones that were better, whihc i had grabbed and tucked int the toip of my puirse, just stuck there nearly spilling out. THen i remembered some high heeld sandals that i wanted instead and there they were. We were dressed. We were ready. You were excited. SO was I, but more out of breath. I think Maggie was there somewhere. I felt her near but didn't see her. SH eis always near.

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:: JOURNAL HOME :: SUBSCRIBE TO THIS JOURNAL :: Click on Kathy Gabriel and read my stories :: 2-in-1 Romance by me (but the back cover's misspelled!. grrrrr.) :: November is National Novel Writing Month! :: The Feel Good Manual - happiness can be learned :: Mugs with the wet ferret :: Fractured Frugal Frieds - the best frugality site around :: The ferrets, and other pics by a talented local (very local) photographer :: Kettins_Bob's journal :: Clarion SF & F writing workshop :: Genevieve's journal (Clarion classmate) :: Phil's website (Clarion classmate) :: Nnedi Okorafor's blog (Clarion classmate) :: Online magnetic poetry :: Dave's interactive html tutorial :: Make a snowflake here - WARNING: Addictive! ::