I married
Kevin Barnes. The
wedding was on Union Pond back in
Rhode Island; the guests, mostly our friends and my family, were set up outside at white-clothed tables. It was an overcast day. I wore a pink and grey minidress, and I fluttered about surrounded by my friends (who were apparently just
generic friend-types and no one I know when I'm awake) waiting for Kevin to arrive.
He finally showed up, also dressed in pink and grey. He was frightened, for some reason, by a book we bought from a
vending machine in the house. I
kiss him and try to make him feel better - it's our
wedding day, after all! - but he remains tense, edgy. He's so different from the sweet, gentle Kevin I know (or have imagined for dream purposes).
I go and see my mom's family, sitting together at a table near the front. It's a
tense situation and we get into a brief argument about some
jewelry my grandmother leaves on my plate. It's gold, and I don't wear gold.
Then, the actual
ceremony, which mostly involves us scrutinizing each other's various forms of
ID. We have to wait a while for the vows, since they're being broadcast on
MTV along with various other musicians' vows (Kevin's in
a band, see...though admittedly not a very
mainstream one). The only other pair I remember was two
blond British rappers in outlandish hats.
Then we're
married, and we take a trip to
New York City. We don't know exactly where we want to go, so we check into a random
hotel and stretch out. The hotel is expensive and has tiny rooms, but there's all manner of conveniences situated on the first floor - stores, a
laundry, and a
crematorium.
My
dad and his mother have come on the trip with Kevin and me. As we
relax they stand up and put on their coats - Dad is taking darling Gramma June
downstairs to get burned. Apparently, that's what she wants to do. They leave the room with a minimum of
fanfare, Dad still in his suit and June in her
best coat and
hat, and all I can do is
stare after them. Kevin cries on my shoulder. I just feel sick.
Then, it's
a few weeks later. We're moving into a
bright little apartment with
houseplants and wood panelling - I hear myself telling Kevin that we can stay here in this
Brooklyn residential hotel for
six months, then we'll move down to
Athens, his home, and we'll see which we like better.
Then we're in a car, and I'm
driving (which I don't do when I'm
awake) - apparently all our
things are in it, it's six months later, and we're going south to
Georgia. I have to pee, and I end up going in a (empty!) juice
bottle, and we pull into a grassy
rest stop and are greeted by an older lady who is outwardly
friendly, but I can tell she doesn't
approve of young ladies relieving themselves in bottles. I turn around to wake up Kevin when my
roommate comes in and slams the door because it's 2pm and this has been one long-ass mother of a dream.