I had a Dream

I was getting married. Sometimes it was a quick wedding with only a couple of witnesses, and sometimes it was a big church wedding. I wore a pale grey dress. He wore a black suit.

The vicar was someone we knew. It was touching and a little embarrassing. The ring was a thin band of etched silver.

I didn't want to go straight to the reception so we were getting prepared in the kitchen. It was our family kitchen (but not like our actual family kithcen, if you know what I mean). My now husband took off his jacket and padded around without his shoes talking to his best man. Once I walked past him and slapped him on the arse in a familiar manner. They decided to go off to the reception, like they were deciding to go to the pub. I still wasn't ready and stayed behind talking to my parents (they were both alive).

When the boys had left I discovered that the ring was on my right hand. Swapping it I noticed that it didn't fit onto my left ring finger. As I tried it the ring snapped.

Then I worried. I fretted because the ring had broken. I worried because I didn't want to go to the reception. Then I thought about my husband sitting on the top table with all the guests and family around, listening to the speeches, but without a bride.