These heat-induced dreams are starting to get a little too serious. They are hitting a little too close to home.
Last night I dreamed about my wedding. It should have been picture perfect. But it wasn’t.
We got to the reception and the cocktail hour had gone too long and no one was in the tent to welcome the new Mr. and Mrs. Then the DJ played our first dance, but no one heard his announcement so no one saw our first dance. Then he cut the dance very, very short.
“But Nicole,” your thinking, “you married the man you love. Why does all that matter?”
Well, it’s because I did not marry the man I love. As it turns out, the one with whom I was spinning and twirling while no one watched was not the one who’s name was next to mine on the marriage certificate.
By the power invested in the priest by the church and the state of Maryland, I had married the wrong man.