For as long as I’ve been involved in weddings I’ve had a dream (and not the inspirational, beautiful kind like MLK, Jr. spoke about). An awful, recurring dream – maybe you could even call it a nightmare.
It starts out a little like a fairytale. A beautiful house. Big fluffy white clouds in the sky. Birds chirping. A gorgeous bride getting ready for her once-in-a-lifetime day. But then, as the day unfolds something goes wrong. Very wrong. This is where the tale changes each and every time. Sometimes, no one can find the groom. Sometimes, I show up and no one there has ever heard of my bride or groom. Sometimes, I show up and the bride doesn’t know who I am. The dream, which probably only lasts minutes, feels like it goes on forever while it’s happening. Each agonizing second. And each time leaves me feeling frantic, panicked, and completely nauseous.
In one version, I run (with all my gear) knocking on every door in the neighborhood asking if anyone has seen the groom. In one of my more epic editions, I try tirelessly to find the right house – like a detective – hopping from clue to clue to try to unravel the mystery behind my couple’s disappearance. In another, I explain to a bewildered bride who I am and frantically try to find details that might help her recall our months of interactions with one another.
Each time, regardless, I awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and thanking my lucky stars that it’s over. These agonizing tales used to occur each and every evening. I used to joke that I worked seven weddings a week because it was starting to feel like it. Thankfully, over the last year or two, the dreams have become less and less frequent. First, they tapered off to a couple times a week, then a couple times a month. And, before I knew it I was only having them every few months. In fact, so infrequent that I haven’t had one now for months…. until last night. But last night’s tale? It was a little different. Here goes:
The opening scene began the same way. A beautiful Spring morning. A lovely sunrise. This time, I arrive at the bride’s house and begin shooting (so far, so good). All is well. I’ve been there for a few minutes, chatted with a glowingly excited bride, and begun shooting the details until someone taps me on the shoulder and tells me the ceremony is starting. WHAT!?! But the bride hasn’t even …I turn around and there she is, fully dressed and getting ready to walk down the aisle (which is just outside the room where she was getting dressed – hey, I didn’t say these dreams all made complete sense). THIS IS IT – THIS IS MY FREAK OUT MOMENT. But instead of freaking out, as I feel the panic swelling up into my throat, I take a deep breath and swiftly relocate to begin shooting the ceremony. As I reach into my bag to change to the lens I like to use for the ceremony, I realize my bag is empty. ALL MY LENSES ARE GONE. You know, the ones I was just shooting with moments before when I was shooting her getting ready. They are just gone. The dream, of course, doesn’t explain what happened to them…. all I know at this point is that I do not have them, I didn’t leave them in the room, and that I’m not getting them back.
Normally, this would be the perfect panic moment again. All I have is a 105mm lens on my camera and I’m left with no other options (for those that don’t know about lenses, that’s considered a telephoto lens). But you know what I did in my dream? I took another deep breath, and backed way, way up. I shot the whole thing with my one lens. The ceremony, the portraits, the reception. And you know what? It turned out totally ok. It became a fun, interesting challenge and forced me to see the wedding in a completely different creative perspective. MY NIGHTMARE BECAME A GOOD THING.
I woke up baffled. I woke up feeling empowered. I woke up realizing, maybe just maybe that was my last wedding dream. But, even if it wasn’t, I’m not afraid of them anymore.
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