“I had a bad dream last night,” he said to me this morning as we were getting ready for work. Mr. S rarely remembers his dreams and when it’s a nightmare, it’s usually about one of us dying. I’m told dreams about specific people dying are actually a sign of long life, so I’m not too worried. Anyway, I urged him to continue, wondering how his subconscious had killed me off this time.
“The wedding cake didn’t have any filling.”
My face instantly contorted into that “Huh??” shape. Of course I’ve had my fair share of wedding related nightmares. In one, the florist showed up with no flowers. In another, guests arrived at the ceremony site on the wrong day and forced me into my wedding dress even as I protested and told them all to go home. But my wedding nightmares seemed normal, almost expected, given how much time I spend planning obsessing over our wedding. For the most part, Mr. S has been spared all the intense nitty-gritty of logistics, to do lists, and massive spreadsheets, so it was even more surprising that his recollection of his dream was so vivid.