I had a dream that it was Alex’s wedding day.
I was putting on a red tux and was getting ready for the ceremony. I was to be one of two groomsmen wearing red tuxes; we were going to walk at the end of the procession. The other groomsmen would wear black, and they had already left. I was late.
This was my childhood home. I was in the garage putting on the tux. Then *flash* a moment later, I was across the street where the Molufs used to live, still trying unsuccessfully to tie that thin, thick tie.
My watch beeped. I looked down. The others were texting me. We have started, they said. I had missed the ceremony.
Dang, if that isn’t pure me. I’m supposed to be in Alex’s wedding… I’m getting ready to go… and I miss it.
Still, I kept trying to tie that infernal tie. And then one of the other groomsmen drove up. He was sweaty and was buttoning or unbuttoning his white shirt and tying or untying his black tie.
“Oh,” I said with a tentative sense of relief. “You’re getting ready for the ceremony?”
“No,” he said. He didn’t look up at me. “The ceremony is over. I’m getting ready for the second one.”
So at least there was that. There were to be two ceremonies, and it was possible that even though I’d missed the first I’d make the second.
Now Alex comes into the house. I try to think of something to say, but we’re both silent. He doesn’t even look at me.
…and then I wake up.