wedding dreams Archives | Two Girls, Oneiron

Henlo Baby got Mack,

Um. I feel like you just put a mirror in front of me that shows the inner workings of my soil. Your analysis helped me parse this dream in a way I absolutely could not have myself!

Thank you for your masterful interpretations and remarks *tips hat, lifts cane, drops cane, falls and cannot get up*

Trust the Brocess

I think you have a great point about these mini dreams, they may not feel connected to the main plot, but there’s a reason why your brain burger decides they’re worth rememberin’. Also YOU KNOW I would go all-in as an investor of your super-powered psychic protein shake business™.

Is any adult ever not feeling the strain of adulting? Woof. I haven’t been focusing on childhood memories, per say, but I will say that I’ve recently been connecting more with my brother.

We’re both single and trying to figure out life, which has made me feel closer to him. The weekend I had this drimmer we had been discussing friends who have kids and how far off that feels from our respective lives, which is how I felt in the dream when confronted with a situation like trying to care for unruly children.

I think this little stint does connect—and the fact that my brother and I have been chatting frequently about friends and new experiences is a good lead-in.

Reading between the through-lines

Amanda and Monica, why did I morph these two into one person/bride/dream bean?

Amanda was my OG BFF but we def fell out of touch, had different friends groups in middle and high school, and didn’t keep up with one another, I really don’t know the version of the person that she is today. But we were very close for a time when we were younger.

Monica is somebody who I was always friendly with and I think our friendship post-growing-up is just as or even stronger than when we were back in school together.

There was something that happened the last time I visited Monica that I didn’t think twice about until thinking back on this dream: I had just been down for a weekend visit and was in a little bit of a hurry to leave that Sunday morning – there was a chance of snow predicted to start in the late morning and I had a long drive back.

Because my brother lives about 20 minutes from Monica, I was grabbing breakfast with him on my way back up to PA. I thought I’d had everything, but once I left I realized I left my ring on the bedside table at Mon’s apartment.

Ring ring ring ring, ring ring ring: banana phone!

This ring was a flea market find from when I was going to college in New Hampshire. It had a vintage vibe – gold with individual ruby stones that collected in a broad diamond shape.

A few weeks before going to see Monica, I’d shut my sliding closet door quickly but didn’t remove my hand soon enough and the ring stopped it from shutting on my finger. So when I left the ring down in DC, Monica let me know that she’d mail it back, no worries. Then I had this dream.

Later that week, I got an envelope from Monica with a hole in the corner, my ring had likely gotten stuck in the mail machine and didn’t make the journey back. Somehow when I remembered that and this dream I thought it was sort of uncanny.

There was never a ring in this wedding dream and the different levels of friendships and relationships that were present — a close friend from another time in life (Amanda), a friendship that’s endured many years (Monica), the renewed friendship with my brother, even running into that college acquaintance (hot Kent) — all seem very telling of where I am right now as a sangle person at a crossroads with commitment.

I’ve been reconnecting with some old friends lately and venturing out to meet new people. I think the assassination mission is there to say I truly can’t give my attention to everyone (interesting, too, because I never did know who my target was). Not being able to make the cut means I need to be more cognizant of how I’m spending my time. Quality over quantity and all that.

Shun out the bad, let in the good

Okay, now onto the beach chase with Slendy’s groupies. I’m glad you asked what I was feeling sauntering side-by-side with the enemy. I DID feel powerful marking those guys’ cheeks up to remind ‘em that I was still there. NGL, it was pretty badass.

Being at the beach specifically seems to relate to shifting sands, the ebbing shoreline, and a time of transition.

What I take away from all of this, with the help of your insightful direction, is that I need to stay strong even if it’s just me up against the “bad” guys, or really just any force, thought, etc. that’s not serving me in a positive way. I have the tools (representative of my Shun knife) to protect myself and take care of me, no other person needs to do that.

Till we Zs again,

Jenny Bourne

Dearest Mackadoodledoo,

I saved a real keeper for my inaugural dream- it is a doozy. I was watching a lot of true crime leading up to this drimmer and spent the night prior playing live-action horror board games with the sibs.

Let’s just say, things got a bit violent. I can’t wait to hear what you think.

But First~

Ever have one of those really quick dream “mini-sodes” that squeeze their way into your night’s sleep even though they seem unrelated to the overall story that gets all the glory? This dream saga started with one of those- and, though it was brief and feels like it all happened in the span of five seconds- I did feel it warranted mentioning.

In this telescoping mini dream, my brother and I own a daycare center and it’s a bustling day after lunch. We’re picking toddlers up and wiping their PB&J-covered faces, tossing giant foam blocks out of the way that are strewn on the floor, and laying out plush pillows for afternoon nap time.

Several of the kids are acting up, and don’t want to be put down, wailing for more playtime.

That’s where the dream appears to take over and my brother and I make a decision without speaking, sort of robotically, there’s just no other way to tend to this problem: The tantrum makers need to be “medicated.”

I station myself at the kitchen sink to pour test tubes of cocaine (casual) into buckets of water. I’m trying to get the ratio right and the mixture’s getting goopy and grainy (evidence that it’s just about ready).

I don’t have children, nor might anyone I know let me near theirs after reading this, but what should I make of this?

The fun does NOT stop there...

End scene on that mini-sode. Now I arrive at a swanky outdoor venue by a shimmering lake to attend a friend’s wedding (who was the bride? It seems I had two people in mind: This was a split character of Amanda, one of my first close friends in elementary school and Monica, a good friend I have from middle school who I just visited in DC a few weekends ago.)

But, I’m not there just as a guest, I’m actually on a special mission to assassinate someone in the wedding party. Gasp!

Once I greet the bride, I go through the motions of how I’ll carry out the deed, mentally practicing for my moment. I feel the revolver in my right leather jacket pocket, just concealed when I put my hand around it.

I check my watch: 6:00 pm. That’s when I remember I’ll need to eliminate my target at precisely 6:30 pm, no sooner, no later, or else I won’t be admitted into Slender Man’s kingdom.

Yep, Slender Man’s kingdom.

Between my assassination rehearsal and the real shindig, I have some time to mix and mingle with the crowd. 30 minutes to be exact. So I walk over to one of the gazebos decorated in peach flowers.

I get a tap on my shoulder. It’s Kent, a charming acquaintance from college who I haven’t seen or talked to in at least five years. I go in for a hug and Kent kisses me on the lips, as if this is as casual as a handshake. After chatting with a few other friendly faces, I look down at my watch.

6:28 pm.

It’s time for the wedding procession, and guess what? I’m the maid of honor in the wedding (or in this case, the maid of dishonor considering my duties, though I was never fully certain who my target was).

As maids of honor do, I begin stepping down the church aisle to the classic pipe organ processional. My walking partner is moving at an erratic pace, and I wonder if they’re doing it on purpose as I try to speed down the aisle, cognizant of what time it is.

That’s when I realize, everything around me- the pews that flank the aisle filled with friends and family, the stained glass windows on the sides of the church and tall cathedral- everything’s fading away and all I can see is the floor, which quickly starts disappearing under my feet.

The best way I can describe the end of the aisle scene is like being on Rainbow Road in Mario Kart, hitting one of those sneakily placed speed bars around a tight corner, launching off the course, and slo-mo falling into the black part of the screen.

While falling away into blackness, I glimpse my watch. It’s 6:39 pm.

I failed the mission.

Now I’m on the run from someone powerful and their groupies whom I’ve seriously pissed off (could it be Slender?). I get a premonition-type vision that they’ve been in my residence, and stolen important files I was keeping on a TV, but now with the alacrity that they’re pursuing me with, I get the feeling that they still haven’t gotten all that they want.

So, before they ransack my place, I grab my Shun kitchen knife (v. nice, v. v. sharp, quality cooking-grade kitchen knife) for protection. They’re chasing me and we’re all suddenly on a beach, dodging deep holes made from sandcastles, old men asleep in the sun, and down umbrellas.

Though I’m running from them, we’re running in a line, four abreast (which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense), but every once in a while, I get the opportunity to take the very tip of my Shun and carve a little X into each crony’s cheek to remind them I’m armed.

We keep running, then I wake up, frightened and reeling.

What does it all mean?

Mack, this dream was action packed and a half and it resonated with me in an eerie way. There’s symbols on symbols here, but I’m having trouble finding meaning.

Perhaps it was just a collision of too many crime stories buzzing around in my pretty little Jenny head? I look forward to hearing your take.

Jernearth Bearington III

Tag: wedding dreams

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