I had a bizzaro dream last night wherein I was shopping for a bridal gown. For myself. I am not only happily married, but in the unlikely event I ever found myself in the market for a dress in which to get married, it most certainly wouldn’t come from some frou frou bridal shop. In the case of my dream, the shop was kind of like a Kleinfeld’s from Say Yes to the Dress on TLC. Middlest makes me watch that show waaaay to often.
Anyway, in my bridal gown dream, I was frantically trying to find a dress that wasn’t white, champagne, ivory, etc. I was also trying to find one that fit. All of the dresses in my dream store were a size three. I haven’t ever been a size three. I am very far removed from that size at this stage of life. I wanted a dress that was bohemian and deep red, or something like that. I finally found one, and not one snotty salesperson was to be found. Then, when I turned around to pick up the dress and carry it with me to find someone, it was gone.
Well, about that time I woke up in a cold sweat because I was getting married again. Thank goodness it was only a dream. One husband is plenty.
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