My Hitler Wedding

I dreamt that Hitler officiated my wedding.

I have been having a lot of crazy wedding dreams. It makes sense; I am getting married, but the wedding is 7 months away. I feel like there is still time to do everything.

I dream about my hair and makeup going fantastically wrong the day of. This just makes me feel incredibly shallow. Fusband, I promise I am thinking about my vows as well as my hair. I have dreamt of not having the right shampoo for the wedding. It does matter.

I have dreamt of a random ex of Fusband’s storming down the aisle and interrupting the wedding. I had my brother and the best man carry her out. It was rather comical.

If we go off of these dreams, I come across as incredibly self-involved, jealous, and insecure. I worry my hair won’t curl right on my wedding day. It could curl the wrong way you know.

But the Hitler dream takes the cake. I was walking down the aisle in a Julie-Andrews-Sound-Of-Music-Esc wedding gown. It was beautiful, and now that I think about it we were in a cathedral. I am definitely not Catholic. Anyway, as I walked down the aisle and got closer and closer to the faceless groom, I noticed the minister. Hitler. It was Hitler.

What does that mean?! Now I know that I am not as self-involved as my dreams make me out to be, and I have never been jealous. Fusband is awesome and would never give me any reason to be jealous. Based on all of this, I think I can draw some comfort in the idea that these dreams do not reflect reality or even mirror it.

One can only hope that Hitler officiating your wedding does not mean that your marriage is going to turn into an emotional Holocaust. All anyone has to do is spend five minutes with me and Fusband and you will know that we are incapable of creating an emotional Holocaust for each other.

In fact we are rather adorably disgusting. Aren’t we muffy-cakes?

But Hitler? Really? Were does my mind get this stuff?


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