Last night, I had the worst wedding dream, yet. The dream began that it was the day of my wedding. I showed up at the church in question, but it wasn’t the church I had actually chosen. Nevertheless, I acted like it was and so I went in to get ready. It had a lot of long halls and we went downstairs to a classroom for me to prepare.
My makeup and hair ladies never showed up, though I only questioned their absence in my mind in the form of, “I hope I look okay. Who did my makeup and hair?” Apparently, I got my makeup and hair done somehow, but that was never shown or explained in the dream.
When I had myself together, a lady took me up the stairs to a side door that lead into the main worship hall. However, I had to wait before entering, as an event was going on in the hall. When I did enter, the pastor’s wife exclaimed how happy she was to see me. Many people were already in the seats. The ambiance was gray. Everything was gray. And some “dim” white light was lit. Lights were also going on about the room like a dance rave and people were smiling and cheering. When I came in, all this had to end, for my wedding was beginning.
I didn’t know who anyone was, but apparently that didn’t bother me. I stepped out from the left side and went up to the alter where my pastor BH was waiting. However, it wasn’t my pastor. It was some other man, but he also wasn’t shown in my dream.
So I stood and waited for a few minutes, but the groom never came in. I questioned to myself if I’d actually come on the right day? It would explain why my hair and makeup ladies weren’t there if this was the day before my wedding date.
After some minutes, I decided the groom wasn’t coming, so I went and sat back down at a round table of sorts off to the left side of the room near where I’d come in. People started to stand and proclaim gifts they’d brought me. I smiled and was bashful about all their attention and gifts.
Then I heard that the groom had intended to show up, but he’d had to stop and go back to some university in California because there was some event there he was required to attend. Then, the story changed that some important professor he had known had died and he’d felt obligated to attend their funeral — and that’s why he and his family had left and flown back to CA.
I sat there stunned, then I asked myself, why didn’t he message me beforehand about this? I had no message on my phone or tablet, and no voicemail.
As I began to feel hurt and angry, I got up and hurried downstairs, ashamed and embarrassed. I went into one of the classrooms and cried and cried in both sorrow and anger. To me, it was incomprehensible he’d do this.
Eventually, my father came and got me and took me to some form of two-story house. I wasn’t sure if we owned it or it was more like a hotel we rented, but he put me upstairs in one of the rooms and went out.
For a while, I sat in there crying and thinking about what I was going to do. I’d never been so humiliated and disrespected in my life. What kind of marriage was this going to be, the way he treated me already?
Then, I heard that my fiance had arrived. I sat there, determined not to move. I’d make him come up to me. That, he did, and when he entered my room and saw me still in my wedding dress, sitting there, he said, “Wow!” — looking flushed and impressed by how pretty I was. Likewise, he was wearing a gray suit, black shoes, maroon under-vest, and a maroon rose clipped on his jacket front.
When he entered and closed the door, I noticed most of his hair was gone. He had just a little bit left, and as he came to me, he processed to pull it out of his head easily, like a cancer patient would. I only slightly asked to myself what happened to his hair? But outwardly, I didn’t act like I noticed or cared.
My fiance came over to apologize to me. It was insufferable. I progressed to tell him this had been the worst day of my life. I couldn’t believe he’d treated me this way. He tried to tell me he’d wanted to come, but his responsibility to his dead professor had required him to go there instead. I was so mad I said this marriage is more important and more obligatory than everything else in his life, and certainly more important than all his Korean customs. I come first. This wedding comes FIRST. The way he treated me–was this a foreshadow of what I was to expect throughout our marriage? Would more things come up more important than me that I’d have to take the sideline for?
He didn’t say yes or no and we were quiet. Then he randomly changed the subject, telling me I was breathtakingly beautiful. And, out of nowhere, he had a gift bag in his hand and he pulled out a black, shiny piece of lingerie, asking me if I thought this looked okay? I was so mad that he ignored what I’d said and asked and tried to get sex with me, that I stormed out and went downstairs and locked myself in the bathroom, crying.
The light was off in the bathroom, though a low, blue type of light was still on. I leaned over the sink to look at my face, horrified. The light showed me dozens of pimples all over my face. When I turned the regular light on, I could see 8 to 12 had popped up on my face. In addition, the blue light showed me all the underlying ones that had yet to come up through my skin.
Since my fiance was outside the bathroom trying to get me to come out, I suddenly opened the door and pulled him in. We both looked at my pimples and he exclaimed, dismayed, “This is as bad as it was a few weeks ago!”
Then we looked at each other in shock and confusion about the pimples. That was how the dream ended.
The last 2 days have been very, very stressful. I’ve had to consider a rental car. I’ve had to review u-haul reservation details, get cat boarding set up for Panda, go to the county clerk to ask about marriage certificates, go get my marriage ring resized, add money to my various savings envelopes, discuss and revise plans about my fiance’s and my parents meeting, and I’ve been trying to gel the mad, super busy, super tight schedules of April 5 and 6.
Those involve packing me up, hooking my car to an auto transporter, and then using a taxi the rest of those days to get me where I need to go. Also, my fiance and I will be leaving very early on the 7th, drive all day to our new house; then, on the 8th, we need to unload the u-haul & put all the things in the house; I need to drop off my cat at the boarders; we need to drop off the u-haul and get my car, then make it to the airport and leave for our honeymoon. It makes my mind spin thinking of it. This dream I think represented my stress.