After many months of blog negligence (/I blacked out and forgot I actually started a blog about the nonsensical things that happen in my brain while I sleep), I’m trying this again.

Last night I either got married or finally had a Bat Mitzvah. Either scenario seemed plausible even in the dream, where I had no idea where I was and why it was my special day. Part of Dream Sarah suspected that it was her wedding, as Current Boyfriend was sitting next to her in a corner booth at a casual family restaurant that looked like a slightly upscale Friendly’s, and he seemed to be part of the big occasion. Also, Dream Sarah was not thirteen, did not know anything more about Judaism than barely half-Jewish, Christmas-loving Sarah knows now, and there were no glow sticks, plastic guitars, or seventh graders doing the Macarena.

Having deduced that Dream Sarah got married last night, I was able to recall some thoughts that ran through her head at the time:

-Why didn’t I get to plan all this? Isn't this my freaking day?
-Is my mom going to give a toast? Is she OK with this whole thing?
-Do I have to actually talk to people?
-Why do I not know what the hell is going on?
-Why doesn’t anyone want to sit with us in our huge corner booth?
-Who are all these people?
-Why does my "husband" seem equally uncomfortable and confused?
-How is this wedding flying by so fast I don’t remember getting married?

Real Sarah would like to know who the fuck thought it was a good idea to hold her wedding reception at Friendly’s. But then, as my friend Jayfree said, "dude if you had your reception somewhere that served mozzarella sticks, I'd marry you both."

So maybe Dream Sarah is onto something. Either that, or she's trying to warn me that if we keep eating cheesy, greasy foods and pretending it's OK because we're in love and don't have to impress anyone else, the future is going to be fucking bleak. Fat babies will be running around the house demanding milkshakes and grilled cheeses while I try not to black out another major life event.