Wedding Madness
My house is crazy. People are everywhere, strangers, well, not strangers, friends of the family who I don't know all that well even though they know me, coming into my room at 9:00am, taking wedding things, rose petals, dishes, trays, that were stored there for the wedding, my mom telling me to wake up when I went to sleep four and a half hours ago. 11:00 I think, I'll wake up at 11:00. I stand up to close the door, dunno how many times, people talking and bustling outside, coming in, leaving the door open, leaving dreamy messages: wake up. Nope. 11:00. I dream that I'm late for my brothers wedding, I can't find the streetcar line that will take me there, I ask for directions in German and a drunk man pats me on the back: "einfach, einfach," "easy, easy."
I wake up at noon and wander into the kitchen. There are a half dozen people going every which way, friends, relatives, family, family soon to be, some chat with me, small talk, always the same: "So you're going to Austria. So you were in Austria. So you graduated. So you don't know what you're going to do with your life." Well, only one person said that. The phone rings: hair appointment. The phone rings: caterer. The phone rings: "May I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Dow please?" The phone rings: wrong number--all while people are running in and, moving stuff around, planning, talking, more bustling. More friends arrive, more relatives, some stop by my counter where I'm eating breakfast and writing the dream down, chat, some keep going, not recognizing me. Madness. And then 12:30, 12:45, I'm listening to Nick Drake and there isn't another soul in the house. Everyone within a ten minute period just disappears.
Am I still dreaming?
I wake up at noon and wander into the kitchen. There are a half dozen people going every which way, friends, relatives, family, family soon to be, some chat with me, small talk, always the same: "So you're going to Austria. So you were in Austria. So you graduated. So you don't know what you're going to do with your life." Well, only one person said that. The phone rings: hair appointment. The phone rings: caterer. The phone rings: "May I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Dow please?" The phone rings: wrong number--all while people are running in and, moving stuff around, planning, talking, more bustling. More friends arrive, more relatives, some stop by my counter where I'm eating breakfast and writing the dream down, chat, some keep going, not recognizing me. Madness. And then 12:30, 12:45, I'm listening to Nick Drake and there isn't another soul in the house. Everyone within a ten minute period just disappears.
Am I still dreaming?