Two nights ago I had a dream about my shower. I dreamed that Joyce didn't want to get her house dirty so she moved the shower location to an oft-visited brunch spot for me and the peeps: John's Place. I was really confused in the dream because Joyce hates John's Place...come to think of it there are several caboose riders who have expressed vivid opinions about the level of cleanliness and sanitation at the establishment. Then, the other twist in the dream was that instead of my peeps Joyce invited all of my former boyfriends. Let me tell you that isn't going to do much for the sanitation at John's Place! I ran to the bathroom to collect my thoughts. During my dream-bathroom break I was giving myself a pep talk: "Christie, it was so nice of Joyce to throw you a shower. Of course she doesn't want to get her house dirty. Be nice. Be gracious. Don't order eggs. Take a shower when you get home. Look for some Purell before eating. Now, get out there and talk to Bryan, Peter, Jason, Kevin, and Chris. Ask them about their lives and be all-Southern and ladylike about it."
I know my shrink is out of town, but do you think MAYBE, just perhaps, there is a teeny tiny off chance that the Bridled With Joy staff has some anxiety about the upcoming shower? Hmmm. I remember Psychology 101 at Texas A&M University, the venerable institution also known widely as the Harvard of the South, and in my 300-person class freshman year I remember a paragraph or two about dreams. About fantasies coming out in dreams and deep fears and anxieties being expressed by the subconscious.
Maybe I have a wish for all my ex's (some who did the dumping, and some who received the dumping) to know I am approaching the alter with a man who is a perfect fit for me. Maybe I want them to know I turned out A-Ok, with gainful employment, a hunky home-improvement groom, a pretty spectacular ring on my finger, great in-laws to be, and mucho stability. Maybe I just want them to see I am still the hot mess I used to be, just way way less mess!
Perhaps there is anxiety about putting our one-armed co-maid of honor out this weekend as she hosts the bridal brigade at her house.
Because I have the lucky fortune of having friends who are therapists and other friends who are those therapist-friends' patients, I opted to have two showers: one for shrinks (not mine, because Dr. Feelgood is busy getting his groove on in Maui, while I am busy interpreting my own damn dreams) and one for patients. Let's face it, showers are hard enough without having to eat a cucumber finger sandwhich next to your shrink. Maybe that's also how my shrink friends feel-- It's hard enough to show up for a shower without having to pick out an outfit that won't trigger your patients.
The good news is that if I totally screw this shower up, I will get another chance in November when the other shower occurs. The other good news is that I get to have a new outfit for both! Building my trousseau one outfit at a time.
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