With my wedding to Cheshire quickly approaching (43 days from today), I’ve been having a lot of dreams about weddings lately. Most of them involve things going horribly wrong, or huge miscommunications (like the photographer not showing up, or performing the wedding on the wrong day, or losing the rings and replacing them with DIY seashell rings hot glued to tin foil rings). Usually I remember bits and pieces but not enough to piece together a whole sensable plot. BUT. About a year ago, before Chesh and I started dating, I had this little masterpiece. And so, without further ado, I present my wedding day from hell.
You know how when you dream, there isn’t a starting point that you remember. It’s all kind of fuzzy and you find yourself suddenly in a situation not remembering how you got there. It gives us the illusion that we’re awake because there wasn’t a pinpointed beginning. But this time, it was like getting blasted with cold water. One second I’m drifting off and then next second, BAM! I’m standing in a wedding dress in some bridal room at a church. There are bridesmaids from hell in bright pink dresses that make me want to retch, and everyone is smiling too big. My mother dearest is crying into a wad of tissues, fussing over my veil, and my dad is holding back tears as he gazes across the room at me like I’m about to go off to war. I take in the whole situation quickly and handle it with grace and precision.
“What the hell is going on?” I say, eyeing down the nearest bridesmaid who is attempting to straighten the bottom of my dress. I inch away from her.
It’s as if the room didn’t hear my question, and my mom begins blubbery about her “little baby who is so grown up and finally getting married”. I feel like I’m going to be sick again.
“And who am I marrying?” I direct this at my dad who seems the most sane one in the room. I’m mistaken. He eyes me curiously, a quizzical puppy dog look on his face.
“Hannah that’s not funny.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I brush away another bridesmaid who’s trying to fit something in my hair, a flower I think. My annoyance boils over. “Everyone! Get out!”
The room freezes and my mother looks horrified. Good. At least they’re listening to me now. I stare back at them all, eyes wide, and stare pointedly at the door. “Out.”
My parents assume they aren’t included in everyone, and they remain. My headache lessens as the pepto-bismol pink puffs of a bridal party leave.
“Will someone please explain to me what’s going on?”
“You’re getting married, honey.” My mom looks like she’s about to lose it altogether. “This is supposed to be a happy day. What’s going on with you?”
I ignore her.
“Who am I marrying?”
There is a silence and I think they think I’ve lost my mind. Alzheimer’s maybe… Finally dad breaks the silence.
“You really don’t know?”
“Humor me.”
“Kevin.”
Typical dream-based reality, no one has last names and my apparent fiance only goes by the one. Kevin.
“Well could you get…Kevin, was it? In here?”
My mom protests. “But it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!!”
Dad, thankfully, sees I’m in no mood to be messed with and drags my mother out, promising to bring my betrothed.
I take the time to pace the room, and end up tripping over my stupid dress twice. God, did I choose this style? With the strapless straight neckline, and skirt that’s way too long for my legs. I can feel the makeup caked into my skin, and my hair is pilled up in unattractive ringlets on my head, making me look more like a poodle than a person. Dream me had also chosen to spend the day in heels. If I knew one thing about myself it was that me and heels was never a good idea. Especially in a long dress that didn’t fit right.
The door opens, and a quirky but not unfortunate looking guy walks, his left hand covering his eyes. His brow is furrowed.
“Hannah? Where are you? The wedding’s about to start…”
I pull his hand down so he’ll look at me, but he keeps his eyes closed anyways.
“It’s bad luck to-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Open your eyes. You look like an idiot…”
When he does, he gets this wow look on his face that I would assume every bride hopes for from her to-be husband. I would have cherished the moment had I actually known the guy standing opposite me.
“Look…Kevin. I don’t think we should get married.”
I say it, thinking that this is totally normal at weddings when the bride suddenly realizes she’s about to get married to a complete stranger. But as for typical dream states, I didn’t want to hurt the feelings of my dearly beloved fiance, and so I was trying to break the news carefully. So far I felt like I was doing pretty good.
Kevin lets out a sigh mixed somewhere between relief and a sob. Not what I was expecting.
“Really?” His eyes are hopeful, and for a second I’m actually annoyed at how relieved he is at this statement the supposed love of his life just told him. I attempt to reason.
“I just don’t…know you.” I don’t entirely know how to tell him I’ve never seen him before in my life, and honestly wouldn’t know the difference between him and the preacher.
“I feel the same way!” Kevin’s statement makes me double take and I stare up at him with eyebrows raised.
“You do?” I’m confused.
“Yeah. Like you said, I feel like we don’t even know the real Kevin and Hannah. Everything just happened so fast and we made this decision so fast. I feel like you don’t even know the real me…”
Good gravy, he thinks we need to find our own paths, doesn’t he?
“Yeah…. Sure. Ok. We’ll go with that.” Literally anything is better than him crying in the corner. “So what do we do now?”
I can see his wheels are turning, and there’s something sad about how long it takes him to come up with the simple solution of breaking the news to the congregation that has gathered for our nuptials.
“We’re going to have to tell them, aren’t we?”
I nod at Kevin the Genius.
“I can’t do that! My mother will be so disappointed after all the hard work she’s put into this wedding!”
Aha! So she’s the culprit for the wardrobe choice of my bridesmaids. No wonder.
Since I have no emotional connection to these people, I take the high road and volunteer to tell everyone of the impending lack of ceremony.
Now, at this point, things get a little fuzzy, and I somehow agreed to let him take our limo and honeymoon tickets to Hawaii while I drew the short straw and told everyone. Looking back, I think maybe I just wanted to be done with the whole thing, and as I waved at the disappearing limo, I wondered to myself exactly how I was going to explain this whole fiasco. I couldn’t really walk up to the front and tell everyone there wouldn’t be a wedding today because we didn’t actually know a single thing about each other. Or could I?
And so as the organ attempted to keep up with my fast paced strut up the aisle, I held my skirt a foot off the ground, my bare feet having kicked off the heels at the door. People awkwardly stood, wondering if they were supposed to since the groom was no longer standing at the altar like he was supposed to. A red faced lady on the front row didn’t look happy. I waggled my fingers at her as I passed, guessing she was our dear Kevin’s mother. As I neared the steps and oncoming stage, and faltered, wondering where to stop and make my announcement. Then I spotted the pastor. Poor thing, the man looked confused as all get out, and was awkwardly holding his Bible open, eyes wide like a fish, his lapel mic clipped way to close to his throat.
I came up to stand next to him, leaning over and unclipping his mic.
“Could I just… borrow… thanks.”
Pulling the mic closer to my mouth, the feedback echoed through the building and I saw dear mother-in-law wince from the front row. When the screeching had subsided, I smiled out at them all, wishing I was on a plane to Hawaii instead.
“So. As you have probably guessed, Kevin’s not here.” I pause but there really isn’t a reaction yet. “Yeah, and there isn’t going to be a wedding today.”
A gasp reverberates through the crowd starting from mommy-dearest. That was better.
“We realized we didn’t know a thing about each other, and found this all to be a waste of time… So. Enjoy the cake and whatnot, and I’m just gonna go now.”
I hand the mic back to the pastor, who’s standing there like I’ve just grown a third nostril, and decide it’s time to make my grand exit. People have started to mumble amongst themselves, so I’m thinking it’s time to go. I pick up my skirts and head right back up the aisle and out the door into the foyer. A bridesmaid stands holding her bouquet in one hand, cigarette in the other. She takes a nice long draw and smirks, smoke blowing out of her nose.
“Is that it?”
And it was.
Hannarchy 