I've dreamed about my wedding since I was a little girl. No, really. I have had real, vivid dreams at night. Clear as the crystal goblets we toasted with, in each dream I felt as though I was actually there.
The circumstances varied each time, from cutting our cake to posing with our family on the damp steps of the Salt Lake Temple. I could see every detail -- the swirls of white frosting, the layers of satin, the sea of loving faces. I could feel my new husband lace his arm around my waist, could see the black fibers of his tuxedo jacket as I snuggled close. In each dream, I anxiously looked up give him a smile. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never see his face. Just a blank spot. I could smell, see, feel every particular of my wedding day except the most important one: the who.
These dreams continued into adulthood. When they came, I even tried occasionally to fill that blank with the face of whomever I was dating at the time -- never fit. Eventually, after romantic disappointments and career success, I gave up trying to figure out who my dream (or real life) groom might be. I figured the dreams were some sort of subconscious fantasy I might potentially never see in real life. Shrug.
Then, one night, I dreamed about our first dance. I heard the music and the clinking of forks and the hum of soft, friendly conversation. I saw our guests circle around the dance floor; the little girls rushed to sit in the front for the best view. My satin high heels tip-tapped on the wood until I met my groom in the middle of the room. He held me so close I could smell his cologne and see the orchid on his lapel. Why bother to look up and see his face? I was in bliss. Still, I was so close. One last time, I peeked up and saw... a familiar face.
I recognized those soft dimples, rosy cheeks and warm green eyes. Those broad shoulders and that thick, perfect brown hair. He smiled and I cried. He filled in the blank. He was that boy I just met at church. I couldn't even remember his name.
When I woke up, I played it off as a fluke, a mind trick. After all, I hardly knew the guy. Eventually, I forgot altogether.
A year and half later, I was planning my own real life wedding. Chicken or Beef? Salmon, I said. Roses or Ranunculus? Orchids, I said. Dancing? Yes, I said. But people in Utah don't dance at weddings, I was told. But we will, I countered. I couldn't even place why I fought so hard to have dancing at my wedding.
Then, this moment:
Don't ever tell me dreams don't come true.
Happy 5th Anniversary to that boy I met at church. You have filled in all the blanks. I love you.