Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

I'd heard stories. I'd read the other blogs. But I was hoping it wouldn't start for a few more weeks.

The Nightmares.

I haven't had a good night's sleep in about three nights now. Every night starts the same: I toss and turn a bit until finally I nod off. And then I sleep for a couple hours until I wake up, cranky and out of breath, realizing I've been dreaming of the wedding. I try to return to my slumber-y cocoon only to realize that I can't sleep for more than an hour at a time because like the White Rabbit, the narrative of my dream is on a strict timeline and I'm Late, I'm Late, I'm Late. And dammit, waking up is apparently the surest way to get where I need to go.

Last night it was the DJ. In my dream I was at my wedding dressed in an 80's era prom dress (interestingly, this was not a fact I was upset about). Despite the crinoline and poofy hot pink skirt, it was most definitely my wedding. All of a sudden my heart started to thump (and by thump, I mean I thought that an alien might burst through my sternum at any moment, it was beating so hard); I realized I never had my "final" meeting with my DJ.

And no sooner than this realization came to pass, I heard it - the sounds of "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang. And that's when I ran up to the DJ to tell him he had to stop - he had to play all the carefully-selected songs that I had been collecting for months. But he looked at me as if he had never met me and instead said that he didn't have any of my songs. I felt so betrayed. I thought we had an understanding about my musical tastes. How had I misunderstood?

The Gang wailed on assuring me that indeed a party was going on right here, while I hightailed it to the ladies room and cried my eyes out. In my head (in the dream), I tried to calm myself down telling myself that this was exactly the type of thing that people said would happen - "unexpected problems" that you "just can't plan for" and that you should just "go with the flow" on the day of the wedding and that this would make a GREAT wedding story one day. But my dream self told me dream self's inner voice to shut up and continued to sob in the bathroom stall.

And then I woke up.

It was 3:42 a.m.

The night before the DJ snuck into my bedtime thoughts, the photographer made a cameo appearance. I showed up at the wedding and the photographer didn't pay any attention to me. She didn't seem to know who I even was (admittedly, this is not much of a leap since in fact, she doesn't know who I am - since she's in North Carolina and we've never met).

To make matters worse, it seemed she never got a list of the "must take" pictures, so she just took whatever pictures she wanted. No family portraits. No shots of me and Mr F.

Half way through the wedding I summoned up the courage to go up to her and politely asked her to take some pictures of me and Mr F. Perhaps we might go outside and take a few shots? She declined to do so.

And then the dream somehow magically put the developed photos in my hand (yes, even though the wedding was somehow still going on. (Hey, it's a dream - my subconscious apparently lacks a time/space continuum.)) The pictures were awful - each was blurry and the guests were red-eyed. And as I'd feared, not a single one was of me and Mr F.

I woke up. It was a little after one in the morning.

So today, I'm exhausted. Mentally and physically. I would like to have a sit-down talk with my subconscious and let it know that everything will be alright. No need to worry. Just let the fears settle deep within, sitting numbly next to thoughts about terrorism, the economy, and whether "Heroes" will be renewed for a third season. I wish I could assure my subconscious that I will talk to the DJ and the photographer. And the dress will fit fine. The guests will show up. The officiant will remember our names. There will be no nuts in the food and Mr F will not be rushed to the hospital. There won't be a snow storm. Unfortunately, the list goes on and on and somehow I suspect there's enough fodder here for a nightmare for each of the 47 nights remaining until the wedding.

So if you will excuse me, I think I need to call my primary care physician for a prescription for Ambien. 25 pills. 2 refills.