Mrs. Spock was at my wedding

Okay, another wedding dream. Shorter but just as detailed!

I dreamt that I was discussing college education and careers with some girlfriends (I think my mom was there, too). One friend started telling me about her brother and how the only reason he got into a good school is because he was dating a girl whose family had a lot of money. His girlfriend's father told him that if he wanted to go to a good school, they'd help him get there! Fast-forward to the wedding and now I'm the brother of my girlfriend, but I'm still a woman. I know, doesn't make sense. It's a dream from my subconscious, remember?? This actually happens quite often, where a person is mentioned or seen and then I become that person and take on a different point of view... Anyway, back to the dream!

I'm the bride but I'm wearing a long, strapless, Marine blue gown. I'm wearing a bridesmaid dress?!?! And with white shoes, no less! Ugh. No time to dye apparently. Also, I'm being rushed from wherever my hiding place was to the chapel to take pictures. As I'm running across the grass, IN HEELS and nearly falling over a couple of times (hello, how did we badly sprain our ankle on our 27th birthday? Walking in heels? Right...), I'm seeing people who want to say hello to me on my big day. Why are people so early for my wedding? Or is it that picture-taking is running behind? That never happens at weddings... *smirk* I digress.

I'm greeting the people and getting yelled at because I'm holding up the pictures. I grab hold of my future father-in-law's hand and he leads me toward the chapel. No more interruptions now! I get inside and there are a TON of people there. WHY were they let in already if we're not done with pictures? This is a disaster! I'm greeting more people and thinking of how wonderful my future father-in-law is and how awesome it was that I got into a good school with his help. Then I see my father. The slow pace that future FIL brought me to was completely abandoned and I once again endangered myself by running in those ridiculous white high heels but I didn't care--it was my DADDY! I gave him a big old hug and we stood embracing for a few moments. When we finally separated he took a good look at me and asked slowly, "So this is your dress?" (This is the first time I'm actually seeing the dress as well in the dream.) I'm not sure how I could tell all this in a brief moment but his disappointment was less about the dress and more about the situation with future FIL, the money for college, and possibly the groom as well. This was not the time to have such a conversation so I rushed away. I saw more people I knew, including my dear Uncle Barry (but where was Aunt Edith? Perhaps with my mom). I was near the back of the chapel at this point and had to run (walk, dangit, WALK) back toward the front. On my way I came across a rather large woman who bore a striking resemblance to Leonard Nimoy. She was dressed like somebody's flamboyant grandmother and she had a note for me. I stammered a "Th-thank you, Mr. Nimoy..." and made my way toward the front of the church where the photographers were no doubt impatiently waiting. As I rushed, the woman called to me "Nanny Nimoy, darling, Nanny Nimoy!" and explained that Toys R Us had gotten my note 10 years ago but just now got a hold of me. I called back "Thanks, Nanny Nimoy!" I opened the note to read what it said. Apparently I had written the store a decade before about a defective Star Trek toy. They were letting me know that the toy had been recalled and replaced with a safe one. I saw some children coloring with markers and borrowed one to scribble "Nanny Nimoy" on it. This would definitely go in my scrapbook.

That's the end of the dream, but I also made a mental note as I was waking up to have a scrapbook handy on my actual wedding day in case any priceless moments like that take place. I mean, if my actual wedding is remotely anything like all these dreams I've had, a journal/scrapbook will most definitely be needed. I'll put it in the trust of my Matron of Honor, MC Jules (not her real name!).

And here's a picture of the handsome Leonard Nimoy, because I want to share one. Unfortunately he's not in drag here. Sorry.

Robyn & Jamila's Excellent Journey

I don't think my dad reads my blog but just in case he does--Dad, you'd better sit down for this one.

Any one who has known me for more than a few hours knows that I am a huge fan of pop music. If you just finished that sentence by saying "boy bands" out loud, you're on the right track. ;-) This is the story of how two young women overcame unbeatable odds--lack of transportation and lack of funds--in order to witness a wonderful event... an 'N Sync concert. Or was it Backstreet Boys? [blasphemy!!!] Read on, friend.


Once upon a time, in a magical place called undergraduate school, Robyn and Jamila were boy band fans. They saved up their money and bought a couple of tickets to see one of their favorite groups, 'N Sync, at the Charlotte Coliseum. [Now, this is where the story gets fuzzy, so I might have some of the facts wrong. But I've lost touch with the one person who could fill in the blanks*, so here goes nothing. Also, I'm switching to first person.]

My parents couldn't take us to the Charlotte concert but could take us to another concert, in Raleigh. They said to sell the Charlotte tickets and they'd take care of the Raleigh concert plus transportation. Sounds like a good deal to me! So we tried to sell the tickets online. No luck. We lowered the price a little. Nothing. We spread the word on message boards and whatnot. No one was buying these tickets. So we made the only logical decision at this point: To go to the concert anyway, without telling the parental units.

Now, keep in mind that we're two college students with no transportation (well, I think Jamila had a bike but...). "No sweat!" said Jamila, who took advantage of one of those college discount membership things that I miss so very much and went to work at getting us from Greensboro to Charlotte and back.

When the day of the concert came, we were stoked. Not nervous that our parents would find out or wondering how in the world we'd managed to pull this off. Just very excited!!! Our first mode of transportation (that's right, there will be several) was bus. We walked to the bus station from campus and started our adventure. Once we were in Charlotte we got a cab to the coliseum. The show was AWESOME (I think it was the No Strings Attached tour). Once the show was over we hit the ATM to get a little more cash. That's when we learned that we'd both overdrawn our bank accounts.

Oops.

How would we get to the train station for the final leg of our trip? Hitchhiking? Thankfully we didn't have to go that route. Instead we got a ride from a guy and his little boy, who'd also been at the show. Yeah, you read that right--we got a ride to the train station from a total stranger. You know, the people you're not supposed to talk to, let alone get into their vehicles and go places. But God was watching our sorry little butts that night because we made it to the train station safely. The best part: I think the dude was driving a van. Sounds like the beginning of an episode of CSI, doesn't it?

Now, I'm not one who usually falls asleep when traveling. I just can't ever get comfortable whether I'm in a car, on a plane, or anything else. But on that train ride from Charlotte to Greensboro, I was out cold. Maybe it was the punch the dude in the van gave me (KIDDING, geez!). Anyway, once we got back to Greensboro we got a cab back to campus. And I managed to not tell either of my parents about that trip until a few years ago. The cat finally came out of the bag when my Mom and I were discussing never having taken a train trip. I told her "Well, actually..." and filled her in on the whole thing. Mom's response? "Don't tell your father until you're 62 years old!"

So, for those playing at home, let's recap all the modes of transportation used:

1. Foot
2. Bus
3. Cab (twice)
4. Good samaritan/Axe murderer
5. Train

If there are no more journal entries after this, it's because my dad read it and I'm now locked away...


*I unfortunately lost contact with Jamila before I graduated so I don't have her side of the story for verification purposes. Jamila, if you're reading this, I MISS YOU! Let me know you're alive and well and still love boy bands...

Righting yourself

I love learning things as much as I love sharing things on my blog. So today I'm going to share a little and then hopefully learn something from my readers (I know you're out there!). ;-)

This morning I was plagued by strange dreams, and also memories of a gruesome musical in which I performed in grad school. I decided these were not good things to start my brain up with, especially since one of the dreams involved the class I was about to go teach. Things didn't end well in the dream and though I doubt they would've been repeated in my waking state, there's no use in taking chances, right?

So after my shower I put on the music with which I relax and clear my mind. It's an instrumental from the Stranger than Fiction soundtrack called "In Church," by M83. It's a little over 5 minutes and it's perfect. The goal is to get in a comfortable position, whether sitting or lying down (or even standing, I guess, if you like), and let your thoughts float by. You don't judge them as you name them and watch them go; you just notice them and don't let them affect you. It may sound cheesy or impossible or just plain stupid but it works for me.

I feel a little silly though because this morning when I stretched across my twin XL bed I had to work around a body pillow I sleep with. It was under the sheets and spread and I didn't feel like moving it all so I just laid around it. It was slightly awkward--I had one arm above my head and one at my side, one leg bent and the other straight. But I was comfortable, even though I was shaped exactly like a chalk outline of a dead person on a crime TV show. I came to that realization at the very end of the music and felt guilty; is it okay to laugh at the end of a relaxation session? I guess there's no right or wrong way...

So what do you do for relaxation? How do you step back, take 10, and get yourself right (or, at the very least, righter)? If you never do this, why not? Not having time is an unacceptable answer (I've used it)!

Music in Dreams

There was a song in my dream this morning. I'm sure that's happened to some of you before. But do you remember the song when you wake up? With perfect detail? This happens to me maybe once every 2-3 years or so and usually the song fades away as soon as I start waking up.

But this morning was different. The song stuck with me, even became clearer. It's like it wanted me to write it down. Usually I convince myself that the song isn't new. I must have heard it before; it's like a combo between that Sting song you heard last week and the Richard Marx song the radio played before you went to bed, right? Even though I always think I'm being too hard on myself I rarely write the tunes--or words, because sometimes words come along too--down.

I laid in bed going over the tune in my head, remembering the chords. I finally came to the conclusion This song isn't going to leave me alone until I write it down. Goodbye, warm sheets. As I wrote down the chords and spelled out the melody I realized that there were also some sentence fragments attached. I wrote those down, too. It's still fuzzy to me right now, but not fuzzy as in not clear. Fuzzy as in confusing. Why in the world is this tune different? Does this happen to people often? Any type of musician? Or just songwriters? Is this one of the ways your muse can speak to you? Just waking up with a tune in your head, one that won't let you be? It's never happened to me quite like this, and I definitely don't consider myself a songwriter.

I guess I should tell you what was happening in the dream. Parts of it were the usual fare for a Robyn Dream (TM pending): One minute I'm trying to fix the time on my phone alarm clock and it's giving me all these weird time zone options I've never heard of...I also can't get it to just tell me the regular old, current time. Another minute I'm in a huge housewares store with my parents and, the way Mom was standing in front of the ceiling fan section, it looked like she had ceiling fans for earrings. I was about to chastise her because she didn't take the packaging off of her earrings before she put them on, though I was also wondering why ceiling fan earrings would have to be so authentic that they came in packaging.

But the last part of the dream, and the source of this song, is the most important part (IMHO). I was hanging out with a group of people (maybe friends?) and we were walking through a city at night. Probably a downtown parking area because it was a kind of rundown garage, with graffiti and trash that the rain had washed away from other places and no one had bothered to clean up. I was going up the stairs with a dark-haired guy (Richard Marx, LOL? I don't know; we'll call him Dick) when the trash got a little out of hand. I asked him if he'd mind clearing it away for me; maybe my hands were full or maybe I was testing him. Whatever the reason he obliged. I think I did help a bit because when we got to the top of the steps we found a large, round mesh trash bin and we both dumped a bunch of papers and things in there. In my haste to abandon the waste (I totally didn't mean to rhyme that but I'm leaving it there!) I accidentally dropped some paper I meant to hold on to. Dick asked what it was and I explained slowly that I'd written down how I felt about him, how he made me feel, and that the piece of paper was now lost to that rainy mess of refuse.

I was sad because I'd have to pour my heart out again at some point. But then someone started singing. We were at the top of the parking area and people were milling about on the white-lined pavement. I think some people had made fires in trash containers and others were warming themselves. As I strolled around such a dark, rainy scene this man accompanied himself on guitar and spun a beautiful song using the words I'd written; the words no one had seen before I accidentally discarded them. Yet he knew them. He knew my heart's melody and was singing it for me, weaving in amazing arpeggio harmonies with his instrument. "Who am I?" he asked. "Who am I to feel this way about you, when I'm sure countless others feel or have felt the same?"

I can still hear his deep, baritone voice singing my words. It's haunting and rather disconcerting. How does my subconscious do these things while I sleep? And what does it mean?

Whose Wedding is This Anyway?

The wedding took place in this HUGE, almost cathedral-like church. The pews were slanted, like stadium seating. It was absolutely beautiful; all wood (medium dark color) inside with a really nice piano and pipe organ if I remember correctly. There were light fixtures of some kind illuminating the sanctuary but there was also sunlight coming in through some windows, and perhaps an overhead window as well?

The processionals were odd because the women went in before the men. The women were all lined up at the top/back of the sanctuary (the vestibule, if you will) so I took a moment to survey the bridesmaids because—guess what?—I didn’t choose them. In fact, I had very little to do with the planning of the entire ceremony. I didn’t choose the location, the music, the wedding coordinator…anything!

So, back to the bridesmaids. My cousin Nneka was there :-) and I think a couple of random acquaintances from junior high school were there. I think there were 4 or 5 in all. I don’t remember exactly what their dresses looked like but I remember not totally hating them; I think the cap sleeves were a little too frilly but I liked the material (faded yellow chiffon, maybe?*). I don’t even remember what my dress looked like!!! I remember not being uncomfortable, though; that’s something. The organist started playing the Mendelssohn Wedding March. Um, hello, that’s exit music. That’s when it occurred to me that I hadn’t spoken with anyone about the music. Was this even my wedding?! I started making notes in my head of what music I wanted played, assuming that the organist had typical wedding music and perhaps a hymnal with her. I don’t know when I was going to be able to discuss this with her, but there it is.

Anyway, the bridesmaids walked in one by one, and then the doors were closed in front of me. I got a little excited at that point. Even though I knew that they were going to do that, I still got butterflies in my stomach when it actually happened. I’ve always been on the other side of the doors when they close, playing the music (or, on two occasions, standing in the wedding party).

This is where it starts to get weirder. Once the doors reopened, the wedding planner strongly took hold of my arm and led me down the aisle. The wrong aisle. I was thinking “Shouldn’t we be going down the aisle to the right?” but was too in shock to say anything (I was also thinking “Where is my father???”). I even saw the bridesmaids still walking down that aisle (shouldn’t they have been in place already?). Thankfully someone whispered (loudly) to the wedding planner that we should be in the right aisle. The woman corrected, practically dragging me down the correct aisle. I tried to see my groom but there were so many people in attendance (and all standing) that even with stadium seating I couldn’t really see him. I think I spotted him for a quick second but it might have just been a vision through hopeful eyes.

The bridesmaids, the wedding planner and I all made our way down the aisle and toward…well, I would say the minister but he wasn’t there either. Then we made a beeline for an exit to the right of the choir loft area. Um…? I thought this was odd but I did notice that there was no direct path to the altar from the aisle we were in so I figured we were taking a detour…outside?!?! It better not be hot out there!! I can’t stand sweating and I’m definitely not going to sweat in this dress!!!

This is where it gets a little fuzzy. I remember seeing the men make their entrance so somehow we got back inside. It was the exact opposite of most weddings—I was at the altar with the bridesmaids and the men were processing down the aisle. I looked up and finally saw my groom walking toward me—Robbie Williams? Or maybe Sam Witwer…Jim Parsons?? It was a man I’d never seen before, but his face was kind of a combo of those guys.

I woke up shortly after that sighting, thanks to an unneeded alarm that I forgot to turn off. But I do remember one other thing that happened—at some point after the ceremony began (because it was after the entrance/exit music fiasco) I went over to the organist and asked what kind of music she had with her. I flipped through the wedding music book she had. Then I noticed a hymnal and asked if it was a Baptist one (I grew up in the Baptist church). I flipped it over and the title was something weird…it wasn’t Baptist, that’s for sure. It looked like one of those non-denominational deals. I asked Random Organ Lady if I could choose a few wedding pieces and hymns for her to play for the ceremony and the prelude (even though the prelude had already passed). She said I could, so I went to work. Why did this not happen before now?!?!
________

So there you have it. The second ridiculously detailed wedding dream I’ve had in my life (the first one is also on my blog, here: I Almost Got Married! ). I hope you enjoyed it! What's the weirdest dream you've ever had?

*OMG, I think I know what dresses the bridesmaids were wearing! Many moons ago, for my 7^th or 8^th birthday, my Best Friend Since the First Day of First Grade’s (BFStFDoFG for short) mom made a dress for one of my Barbie dolls. It was beautiful—it was faded yellow and looked like chiffon or something similar. It was a springy dress, maybe mid-calf length. It hung straight, no shaping seams or anything. I believe it had a ruffled hem at the bottom and the cap sleeves were also ruffled. To this day I still frown when I think of that dress because it disappeared before I could ever put it on one of my Barbies. After my party we checked all the trash cans, all the bunches of wrapping and tissue paper, under furniture…but we never found that beautiful dress. That is the dress the bridesmaids were wearing, I’m almost sure of it.