Last night's dream: I married myself, again, in NYC and maybe North Carolina. I wore two dresses, one white and conservative, and one with a yellow skirt, black latex upper half and a platinum wig that eventually morphed to resemble my own hair. In the first dress, I was at ease. The sun settled in warm pockets around the room and my breath came easily. I recognized no one in the room, but was grateful they had come to my wedding. In the second dress, in NYC, old friends quaffed whiskey and wine. I needed help with my dress (it kept falling apart) and the wedding preparations in general, but my friends ignored me. I wondered why they had come in the first place and immediately felt as though I had trapped them in obligation. My ex was there with his girlfriend. I was happy to see him, ran across the room to greet him, but was slapped by his cold stare. I had to pee and searched for a bathroom in the house next door where my distant cousins lived with their dog. Someone was playing a video game. The house smelled of ham sandwiches. I ripped off the dress and made a plan in my head to leave the country.