Ben's wedding

I had been invited to be a groomsman for Ben R's wedding, and it was the day of the wedding preparation.  The guys (some of whom I knew, like Alex S) were all getting ready, and I wasn't even around.  I had overslept and was running really late.  After oversleeping, I had to have breakfast even though I don't eat breakfast most of the time, and so I came cruising up to the mansion where everyone was getting ready.  It was 12:50, and everyone was supposed to be loading up the cars at 13:00.  I thought to myself that I was ready, and saw that all the guys were in their wedding suits, and I was in my regular charcoal suit.  Alex looked at me with a look that said, "You haven't changed at all." I asked where the suits were and they pointed at a room just off the area where they were, so I went inside and there was a room with a closet full of clothes and one more wedding suit.

"Oh, it's charcoal!" I thought to myself, "This will be easy!" So I put on the things that were other than what I had on, and just when I thought I was ready, I noticed that this was more of a light gray than a charcoal, so I had to change.  I unloaded the hanger and noticed that there were also undergarments as well.  I then also noticed that there was a notification that whoever was going to wear these suits had to shower and shave before putting them on.

Right! So I went dashing down the long hall in only my underwear, finding that every individual shower was being used.  There were locker room equivalents, all of which had other people in them, but they were my only options.  I went into one, but before I got all the way in, I heard ladies voices and backed out quickly.  I went into another and heard children's voices; again, I left quickly because that wasn't an option either.  I went back up and down the halls, but all of the other showers were in use.  I found a third locker room, and it was empty!  Huzzah!  I began showering and heard kids voices.  I assumed they were going past when they entered the locker room.  They didn't care -- they were kids!  But this was not a place that I could be, so I wrapped up in a towel and left.  Fortunately, I was clean enough, so I just had to get back to the room with the suits.

When I returned, I found that this room had the air turned on, and the vertical slats for blinds were being taken for a ride by the air conditioning.  If there weren't so many people on the outside of those windows, this wouldn't have been a problem.  So I had to hunt again for another room.  Up and down the hall I went, and finally found an unoccupied room, but whose previous occupant had only been gone for a couple of minutes.  There was no telling when he or she would return.  I went in, closed and locked the door, put on the undergarments, and left the room exactly as I found it.

Going back to the room with the suits, I found that everyone who had been outside were all gone.  It looks like everyone had gone off to the wedding.  I knew I had only a couple of minutes, so I threw on the essentials and packed the accoutrements in my jacket pockets.  I went outside, found a set of directions to the church, and hopped in my car.  I began driving away and noticed that the directions were telling me to get on a couple of few different roads for 50 miles, 180 miles, 100 miles, 75 miles -- no small distance!  Apparently, this was not a local wedding; I was driving from here (somewhere in the DC metro) to upstate NY.  Yet somehow, the wedding was supposed to start soon and everyone, including the groom, was just here!

I checked my car's clock: it read 13:50. I had been inside the house getting ready for an hour.  I was late to the wedding! I would be an embarassment to Ben, Alex, my family who was there (not sure who that would be), and they would write me off as a friend; I was unreliable, and I had taken my own interpretation of fashionably late to a whole new meaning.

Strange violence

Last night, I dreamed of a traffic jam.  The traffic jam was near some open sports fields; there were separate fields for football, soccer, and baseball, and in the middle of all of the specific sports fields was a large field that was a wide open space set up like a park (trees, paths, benches, nice scenery -- you get the idea).  Traffic was crawling, and tempers were getting heated, because in the traffic were guys who were supposed to be on those fields because they needed to be practicing with their respective teams.  One of the guys was a big burly guy who had his football gear on and he was really getting impatient.  He was laying on his horn and flashing his lights, which wasn't doing anything except upsetting the guy in front of him, who was a soccer player.  The football player attempted to pass the soccer player, but he was met with oncoming traffic and couldn't do so.  The soccer player rolled down his window and began shouting at the football player, shaking his fist and insulting him.  Tempers kept rising until both men were out of their vehicles, screaming at each other in the middle of the street.  One made the first move and a fight ensued.  This carried on across the lanes of traffic until they were fighting in the open field.

A bystander rushed out to try to separate the two of them, pleading with the two of them to stop fighting, make peace and get back in their cars.  The two men grabbed him and beat him until he was unconscious, and then kicked him while he was defenseless on the ground. While they were doing so, their religious affiliation became apparent, as they were calling on Allah for strength in their anger. Their tempers satiated, they both got back into their cars and drove off; the traffic has lightened up a little so that they could park their cars in the parking lot for the fields and they went to their respective practice fields.

A little while later, the man who had suffered the violence came to.  He was wobbly and barely able to sit up.  He tried a couple of times, but had been so violently assaulted that he either couldn't control his body due to the pain, possibly due to a concussion.  As he lay on the ground, trying to slowly put himself to rights, the soccer player happened to look over.  A cold look of malice ran over the soccer player's face, and he ran over to the hapless man and began bashing him on the head.  After about ten crashing blows, the soccer player ran back to his field; again, the poor man lay unconscious and what now appeared to be close to dead.

Newspapers flashed across my vision.  The innocent victim was a miracle survivor, but only just barely.  He had suffered concussions and broken bones, even a broken neck.  He was paralyzed from the neck down, and couldn't remember most of his life.  However, he remembered his name and things from his childhood.  He had been a faithful Muslim in his youth and had memorized the Qur'an.  The only thing he could do now was smile innocently as he had when he was a child and recite passages.

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It should be noted by anyone who does not know me that I am a Catholic, not a Muslim, and that this was just a dream, not a commentary on Islam.

Play whom?

Last night, I dreamed that I was performing in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.  I was performing in a theater that I had been in another dream.  I had been cast as Bob Cratchit and was waiting on rehearsals and the script.

I don't recall the details of my previous dream in this theater, except that it was a Broadway show that I had never heard of, but I had a very minor role.  As such, I wasn't given a script or time to rehearse.  I was supposed to simply appear at the performances, ready to go.  If you're confused by how I could be ready without a script, join the club.

History tends to repeat itself.  Again, I hadn't been given a script or a rehearsal schedule.  I was called on the first day of the performance, asking where I was.  I came directly over to the theater and got into my costume.  Before my first scene, I attempted to find a copy of the script so that I could get an idea about what I needed to do, who the other characters were -- anything.  However, there were no scripts to be had.  The other actors were either guarding theirs or there really were no scripts for anyone.

I had maybe 10 minutes during which time I looked through the men's dressing room, spoke to a couple technical hands, and found one of the directors, and none of them seemed remotely concerned with the fact that I had never gotten anything I needed to perform.  They were only concerned with the fact that I was going to be late to the stage if I focused too much on trying to find a script.  I kept looking for as long as I could, and I was finally grabbed by one of the backstage hands, taken to stage right and told that I was on in 3-2-1, and shoved out onto the stage.

I fumbled around for a few seconds.  It was the scene at Old Fezziwig's house, when Scrooge was a young man.  (Avid Dickens fans will note that Bob Cratchit is not in that scene and that I would have missed a few significant scenes that Bob Cratchit is in.)  I joined a few other people at a table, and the focus of the stage became our table, as the other actors on it became noticeably louder and carried on a conversation.  I fumbled around with Dickens-style sentences and then made a comment about how I had had too much to drink and needed to go home to sleep it off, but that I wished them a very merry Christmas, full of joy!  I stumbled off stage and resumed my hunt for a script.

I woke up very shortly thereafter in a cold sweat.