Lately I've been having a series of very vivid dreams about my daughter's wedding, dream ceremonies full of bizarre rituals involving, for instance, the throwing of hats and the reciting of very bad poetry. In one dream she wore a brilliant yellow and blue dirndl skirt and carried a bouquet made of orange pipe-cleaners, and in another the bride and groom were wheeled out of the church in what looked like an overgrown perambulator.
My dream self finds nothing odd about these ceremonies, instead finding them marvelously meaningful and moving; my waking self, on the other hand, says, "Pipe-cleaners?! What were we thinking?"
The wedding will happen next June, which means I have eight more months to dream. If I keep being visited by these bizarre rituals, by next June I'll be able to accept blithely anything that happens without a trace of concern: "Orange pipe-cleaners? Lovely. You want to toss some hats? Divine. Where can we find a giant perambulator? Let's start with the Yellow Pages. Whatever you want will be just wonderful!"
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