…..and not the movie.
Recollections are just surfacing of the super weird dream, I had in the nondescript place that hovers between sleep and consciousness, in those moments before waking.
I was getting married, (in itself, bizarre but stick with me people), it was on the down low and it was in my home town in North Wales.
The dress was made of scratchy tweed, in a tartan of pastel hues including heather, my favourite (!). Corset top with a swathed skirt, and diamanté detail on the waist where the fabric was gathered. It cost £720. Details are important, because I want some kind of analysis – you need to know everything.
I was rushing around because I only had an hour until my 7.30pm wedding, (but the rushing wasn’t necessary because I had in fact, read the time wrong, it was actually 5.30pm).
I was trying to inform my two best friends there, D and S, so they could come, but one was really angry about being rushed.
I had forgotten the shoes I wanted to wear, and so skipped back to BCN, to get them out of the storage box under my bed, and was back in Wales before you could say, dream boarding pass.
I woke before the wedding took place, the groom was anonymous, and I remember feeling anxious throughout.
I woke with a heavy heart and a real sense of sadness. Like I’d been through an emotional wringer.
What. Is. All. That. About?
Freaked of Barcelona