Wedding Dreams

No, not like that. I’ve never been the girl who obsessively daydreamed about the perfect white dress, or the exact flowers she wants to see as she prances down the aisle. I’m far more keen on the marriage part of this deal, so let’s put this all aside for now.


But, one thing that has been happening as we talk about and begin to plan the very thing I never thought was for me, is that I am dreaming about it a lot. Here’s what has invaded my slumbering thoughts:

  1. A long, intense dream about having let Reddit users vote for our first dance song. They chose “wiggle wiggle“.
  2. Noticing, as I am signing the register with my now-husband, that he has changed his name, and will from thereon be known as “Master Good Time” and that my surname will become “Good Time”.
  3. Annie Lennox busts out of her chair during the ceremony to sing Thorn in My Side, and ends it off by telling everyone how Dave Stewart is, and always has been, actually a hologram.
  4. I’m getting dressed, all the right people are in the room, we’re chatting, things are great and then I look into the mirror and realise that I’ve shaved my eyebrows off.
  5. I get stuck in traffic on the way back from the wedding, except I am on my own, on a bicycle with one wheel (not a unicycle, an actual wheel is missing), wearing an insane dress, that is NOT the dress I will be wearing, and I’m using my hand to steer, not handlebars.
  6. I turn around during the most important part of the ceremony and everyone is staring at a TV screen, watching a rugby game.
  7. The man I’m marrying takes up calling me “boet” while we’re saying our vows.
  8. I develop chronic ezcema the day before, and all of our photos include me scratching my face.
  9. We post our wedding album to Facebook, as you’re supposed to do in these times, I guess, and Facebook automatically tags our exes in the photos. We are unable to remove the tags, and our pictures are used in a case study in a conference I am attending, three months later.
  10. Instead of wedding programmes, the printing house delivers copies of my teenage diaries to the ceremony, and these are handed out to the gathered friends and family. I don’t know this, until afterwards, when it’s mentioned during speeches.



This is normal anxiety, hey? Hey, at least some of it is funny.