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Writer's pictureLeah Jones

That was nice sleep, the dream I could do without.

I had a simple, but impossible task of attending a wedding last night. (Last night in my dream, not last night in my real life.) It involved a rainstorm at an outdoor wedding that was inside a cathedral. Seriously, outside rainstorm; inside cathedral. I was in the wedding party, but not. I wore white, but wasn’t the bride. I kept trying to figure out how to get from backstage into the pews and how to not to take communion without standing out.

There were crushes there, oh there were crushes. And I ignored one while seeking comfort from the other about the one I was ignoring. While we were busy ignoring each other, there was more rain, much confusion about the location of the bar, difficulty in remembering our purses and wallets. Eventually we all wound up on a plane that was stretching in the middle, double decker, lots of babies and I was in a window seat.

There was also, perhaps, a city bus or a moving van. A detour. More rain, more crying, more ignoring, more comforting. Oy… eventually I woke up. The whole night and I never got to the reception.

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