Stephen and I agreed to marry in May, almost 2 years before we thought we would. We didn't have much time to make plans. We planned, in a matter of minutes or hours, a wedding in San Francisco. There was a very long, winding asphalt path that looked like a runner's course that was our procession, which we would walk side by side towards the final spot where we would be married in front of hundreds of people. I was at the end where all the people were and realized I had to change my bra. I was wearing a long dress that flounced out at the bottom, and it had a nice light brown and tan print. I wanted to wear the blue bra with it but realized I would have to change in front of all of the guests. I did it anyway, trying to be discreet.
Eventually I was back at where the procession would start. I knew we were taking much too long and I was fearful of my mom's response to that. I looked in a mirror and noticed that one side of my face was hairy and I would have to shave it. I was in a dressing room belonging to dancers and I discreetly picked up someone's shaving utentsil and quickly removed the hair from my face. I could feel the eyes of the dancers on me from behind a curtain.
I returned to Stephen and readied to make the long walk. I reiterated to him that my dad would not have to accompany me, that I found that practice creepy. H. Elsa, who was in charge of the events, rushed down to us and asked us what was taking so long. I realized that we were to have the wedding at 10am, but it was already after 11. We finally began the procession up.
Stephen and I were walking at different paces and one time he walked away and asked if he could play "The Ocean" though I knew he meant "Across the Universe" by the Beatles. We were rounding the corner where all the people were waiting, in bleachers and stands covered in white.
Suddenly I was indoors and looked outside. All the people were leaving, the place was empty, and it was dark outside. Snowflakes were falling.
