Last night, I had a dream that I got married to this blond chick that I don’t know. It was a beautiful wedding, and all of my friends and family were there, except the girl I was marrying wasn’t the girl I was actually engaged to (in real life, I’m engaged to my best friend, Brandi Garcia). In my dream, I was still planning on marrying Brandi, it’s just that I was marrying this other chick first. It seemed pretty normal. Brandi even came to the wedding and congratulated me, which probably would have made sense, considering this precursor wedding still didn’t seem to affect our marriage plans somewhere down the line. Proceed as scheduled.
So we do the wedding and then the blond chick and I go to the hotel to pursue intimate marital relations, and we sit down on the bed and everything’s great, except for then this manly man sits up next to us and starts smiling and talking to me like it’s normal that he’s in my bed. Then the blond chick introduces the manly man as her husband, and I nod like it’s normal and shake his hand and we all start talking.
Eventually the manly man starts to talk about getting to the marriage consummation that should start taking place - him included. By this time I’m sitting in a chair adjacent to the bed where my new wife and her old husband are holding hands and smiling and discussing how this should take place. Finally, I am starting to think that something might be awry. This might not be something that should take place.
My initial thought was: “I can’t take place in a polygamous marriage!” That’s funny because the thought was kind of one of those long term, rational arguments with a lot of just reasoning, and not until my second thought did what I now feel should have come first, appear: “I can’t have a threesome with this man!” This was all a bit of suppressed, internal turmoil, however, and the way it was settled was very quiet and calm. I leaned forward in my chair and calmly explained (and I’m not even joking) my theological and moral/ethical reasoning for not entering into a polygamous relationship, and, probably more pressingly, why I did not want the manly man to be involved in my “first time”.
Which brought up another thought: I couldn’t figure out why I’d gotten married to this blond chick in the first place because I was saving my virginity for Brandi. But the blond chick and her husband were understanding (I think they were even willing to file the divorce so that I could trick my conscience into not worrying about the moral and ethical dilemmas with that). It was all quite a pickle I’d gotten myself into (but by the grace of God, I saw no pickles get into anything else).
So I shook their hands and left, and they stood by the door and waved goodbye and smiled.
And then I woke up. I swear it was the most confusing-yet-chronologically-sound-story-of-dream I’ve ever had. I suppose I’d prefer to not have it again.