Posts about dreams are always more interesting to you than to others.

I had another dream about leaving someone at the alter last night. Have I ever mentioned this? It happens every so often and it's always completely tangled up with emotionally hurting people and disappointing my parents. Although I must say that it was my parents were the ones who got me out of last night's wedding nightmare.

I arrived late to the wedding because I missed the train. I missed the train because I was counting out exact train fare ($1.59- clearly there is some major economic deflation happening in my dreamland). This detail is hilarious to me because it's totally something I would do; I have a secret obsession with giving exact change when I can.

When I got to the wedding I checked out the dress. It was knee-length, really pretty neckline, and there were images of monkey faces all over it. I didn't think that was odd in the dream. Now, however... reconsidering.

Details about the man I was supposed to marry were sketchy. I knew it was a cousin of a girl I'd gone to elementary school with. Turns out I went to school with him too. In the dream we'd seen each other once since high school, at a train station a year before the wedding. I must really make a good impression.

My parents realized that it was insane to marry someone you'd last seen a year ago. They decided, along with his parents, that the wedding was off. By the time I got to the edge of the aisle to walk down it in my monkey-laden dress, people were starting to get up and leave. I still felt incredibly guilty. (Truth: as I was typing this, this Postal Service song came on my iTunes shuffle. Oh Mac universe, you and your ironic sense of humor!)

The second half of the night was spent dreaming in French. I was in Clermont visiting old students that I used to teach at the local middle school. They were thrilled to see me and they spent a long time telling stories about their adventures since the 7th grade. Oddly, all the girls had nose rings. The boys had tattoos. Hilarious that my brain translates French adolescence as acquiring piercings and body art.

In reality, I've lost touch with all of them (they were only about 14 when I taught them and being young and living in rural France in '04, none of them had emails yet). The strangest thing happened when I woke up: the dream made me remember this insanely cool drawing that one of the kids had done for me. A skater boy, Basil, used to goof off with his buddies in my class; then on the last day, he shyly handed me a drawing and left the class. I must have that drawing somewhere in my parents' house. I can't remember the details, but I do remember being incredibly touched by the fact that I'd clearly meant something to him, even though he never showed it in class.

Now I'm all nostalgic about teaching and missing being around adolescent kids. There's a sentence you don't type everyday. Plus, I'm pretty convinced that, when the time comes, elopement is for me. (Incidentally, why isn't "eloption" a word? Elopement sounds awful. Come on, English- you're better than that!)

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