Weddingbee

A visual summary of the strange happenings that took place in my first major wedding nightmare.

I had my first truly horrific wedding nightmare last night. I’ve been used to having wedding nightmares since about the 6 month mark, most of which consist of me not having enough time to get my dress on and having to go down the aisle in ripped jeans, no makeup and total bedhead.

This nightmare, however, was different. It seemed to be a pretty harmless wedding dream at first. I was getting my hair done by my stylist with my mom in the girl’s changing room, and suddenly I realized I was pregnant. I immediately started freaking out and told my mom “I think I’m pregnant!” and she was like “honey, calm down and talk to your father.” As a sidenote, the thought of getting pregnant scares the hell out of me, so at this point I was already crapping my candy-coated pants. So I race over to my dad, and by the time I get to him my stomach has swollen up to the point of popping and he asks me what’s wrong. I tell him “Dad, I’m pregnant!” and he lectures me about how he told me if I got my hair done by a stylist I would certainly get pregnant as a side effect, so he immediately storms out yelling about how he is going to go watch the new Karate Kid movie (??!) and to have a “great FAVORING wedding.”

I run to find Mr. Candy Corn, who told me I wasn’t allowed to see him on the big day, but I figure since I’m pregnant and suddenly about to give birth, he’d probably want to be in the know. I knock on his door and his groomsmen tell me he’s busy applying hair gel and that I should leave him alone. I barge in with my huge-arse belly, only to discover Mr. Candy Corn applying some sort of acidic substance to his hair that is making him go bald in spots, with massive patches of the scariest head acne I’ve ever witnessed in my dream-life! I yell “STOP WITH THE HAIR GEL!” and he gives me a “huh?” face and turns around to look at his hair in the mirror and says it’ll be fine and that he can just do a comb over. This results in me ranting about how our baby does NOT need a daddy with a comb over! Mr. Candy Corn just stares at me blankly and tells me to go handle the “situation” in the main reception room.Not knowing what he’s talking about, I run out to the reception area to discover Omar, the gay shotgun-toting stick-up man from HBO’s The Wire, holding the guests who arrived early hostage. The strange part is, I am completely horrified that people have already arrived and I’m not even wearing my dress or makeup yet, so I run away and leave our guests at gunpoint while I stampede through the empty halls of the museum screaming about hair gel.

I woke up completely flustered and started shaking Mr. Candy Corn by the shoulders, ordering him to never use hair gel again. He briefly woke up (but didn’t remember this happening when I mentioned it to him later in the day), and tried to comfort me by hugging me and said something that calmed me down and helped me fall back to sleep. Le sigh.

Have any of you had wedding nightmares? Please feel free to share your stories with me so I can feel less insane!

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