I was a slender bridesmaid
silk crinoline in white
When they saw me walking down
applause echoed the night
I sang for them
I smiled at them
and then in return
hope shone brightly in my soul
raining love for her sojourn.
This poem was inspired by an actual dream. It is beyond the scope of this post to describe the entire dream in all its absurdity. Most dreams are exactly that. Instead, I will describe the very end of the dream for you.
I had a very white, sleeveless “ballerina style” dress. The top was made of taffeta. The bottom consisted of a lovely crinoline covered with tulle, ending just below my knees. I was wearing the most comfortable pair of high heels I’d ever remembered having. And I was very slender. The tulle felt soft and lovely as it lightly swished against my knees when I moved. I felt light and buoyant as I walked softly down a lightly carpeted path.
I wasn’t the “main attraction.” I wasn’t the bride.
What surprised me the most was this: I didn’t expect the reaction that took place when I stepped into view. All of a sudden the venue changed into a small concert-like venue with tiered seating. As soon as everyone saw me [and others in the group] they began screaming with delight. My heart raced as this was an unfamiliar feeling. Of course, the people were enthralled to see the beginning of a procession which would eventually end with the main attraction: the bride.
I don’t remember a time in my dreams in which I was celebrated. Most, if not all of my dreams consist of frustration, envy, jealousy, terror, anger – and most of all – humiliation.
The dream made me feel wanted. They anticipated my arrival with joy. And I felt amazing physically too. Honestly, I must say that it was the best night of my life.
I’ve never felt that special in my whole life. I am thankful for my taffeta-covered dream and it now rests in my soul, alive with hope and white stardust.