Sodality of St. Mary

I was making a visit to the shrines of the Sodality of St. Mary, which involved immersing myself in various stations of baths with all white basins, graced by white statues of the Blessed Virgin. I was there at the same time as the older mother of my Irish-Catholic friend from Church. He told me I had to put on my white toweling robe because my red bathing suit was inappropriately irreverant.

The devotion in each of the shrines consisted of humming along to strange musical accompaniments and bowing before the statues. There was a certain window of two hours for visitors, and I wondered why so few people were there at first, but gradually more and more (all women) began to gather--including someone whom I knew slightly from school and made a joke about one of my professors. With more and more chatty women gathering, the strange devotional feeling with which the dream began dissipated just before I awoke.

Gowns A'morphin'

I was attending the wedding of a dear friend (and ex-boyfriend) from high school; I hadn't yet met his future husband, but I knew my friend was very happy and I was glad to be there. I met up with other friends from high school, including a diva actress and her cohort; no one seemed that impressed to see me.
Suddenly, I was out in a parking lot with my suitcase, trying to put my ball gown on in the open air, attempting to avoid the grease and oil on the ground. My college roommate was there, also getting ready. The dress I showed her was rose, with wide straps, a narrow waist, and a full skirt. When I was holding it in my hands to put on, it was green shantung silk and strapless. Once I finally put it on, it was a monstrosity of quilted satin with wide shoulders, paisley satin handkerchiefing, and a great deal of tulle. I could hear the wedding starting upstairs, and cursed myself for being late. The organist had finished playing for the moment; he came into where I was and I made him help me with my dress. I pulled the top layer of the skirt away from the waistband and couldn't get it to go back, so I couldn't wear the dress. "What have you done?" someone exclaimed.

Bloody Stumps

For some reason, my husband and I were in a hotel on the grounds of the police barracks in Plymouth, Mass. Everything was that shiny plastic marbleized formica tile, like bathrooms from the 1960s, and this place was pink from top to bottom. There was a great juke box, though, with lots of Flaming Lips songs. As I sat waiting for my husband to use the bathroom, some guy came up to me and told me any prosthetic he needed, for any part of his body, he could get for $39.95. I ignored him, and he went into the bathroom. Soon, he came out, and one of his legs was a bloody stump, so I gave him my denim jacket to stanch the bleeding. Meanwhile, my husband was still in the bathroom. I went to check on him, and he was dribbling a continuous stream of vomit after seeing that guy's leg.