The morning of my wedding, I awoke to a forceful whack across my face. I knew Sharon* and I tended to clash, but slapping me? Why would she do that? More importantly, why was she in my bridal suite? She wasn’t even invited to the wedding. I pulled my wedding dress on as she scolded me for something inconsequential and went to find my groom to tell him how she infiltrated our wedding and slapped me.
People were already arriving and walking across the grounds to the ceremony venue. I saw my bridesmaids. What the actual f**k were they wearing? I told them they could pick their own dresses, but the dresses they chose looked like snowsuits!
My maid of honor led the group toward me and we all exchanged hugs. I complimented their dresses with a tight smile on my face. This was my fault, after all. I should have been more opinionated about things.
“Has anyone seen Stanley*?” I asked.
Wait. Stanley? My high school boyfriend? I thought I was marrying Mason. What was going on?
Just then he ran up to the group, out of breath and sweaty.
“I’m so sorry, babe.” He said. “My IBS is just out of control with the wedding nerves and everything.”
I began to tell him about Sharon and how she slapped me in my bridal suite, when two things caught my eye:
1. The decorations in the venue were all backward. I mean, the cute little yellow hutch for the cards and gifts was facing away from guests and toward the wall. I looked at my dad and mouthed, “FIX THE HUTCH.” He gave me a ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
2. There was a woman in the audience, somebody’s unauthorized plus-one, wearing a WHITE BALLGOWN. Who does that? Also, she was applying bright red lipstick. Okay, who brought the attention-seeking exhibitionist? I’m sorry, is that redundant? Well so was she! Like, a white ballgown AND red lipstick? We get it, lady.
Photo by Mihai Stefan Photography from Pexels
Looking at her, it hit me: neither my hair nor my makeup was done yet and everyone was sitting there waiting for me to walk down the aisle.
“Hey,” I turned to my maid-of-honor. “When was I supposed to get my hair any makeup done?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “The wedding coordinator was supposed to prompt you when it was time but she never showed up.”
“My wedding coordinator never showed up?” This was unreal. I needed to call her asap and give her a piece of my mind. “I’ll be right back.”
I started running back toward my bridal suite where my phone was because they don’t make many wedding dresses with pockets so obviously I didn’t have it on me. Hopefully Sharon wasn’t still there.
Then I woke up. I’m sure you’re all shocked to read that.
So. The wedding nightmares have officially started. Hello, anxiety my old friend.
*Names changed out of courtesy to those who did not ask to be in this bizarre dream.