If I ever want a cat, tell me no.

Dear Fleur.
Yesterday Mandy and I watched the film Unstoppable. I cried because it scared me. I don't think a movie has ever scared me so much in my entire life. I literally contemplated getting up off the sofa and leaving into the kitchen because my heart was beating so fast.
Then I fell asleep holding my ukulele for two hours. I thought a nap was a good idea.
I knew I would have nightmares last night.

I dreamed that I had a cat and named it Laurie.

And we were planning a wedding and it was my wedding and I didn't even want to get married. I liked the guy, but for some reason I had never even said yes and they were still planning the wedding. He was just over six foot. Had a short, blond crew cut. And I think he was a Marine or something. I can't remember his name.
They bought me a really expensive dress. It was a surprise. And I tried it on while they all cried and said I looked so pretty. I hung it on my window afterwards and drank a cup of coffee while they tried to tame my hair.
Then I ran away.
I took my cat and packed one backpack and left. The day I was supposed to get married. My hair was all nice and everything. But I didn't care.
I stayed away for three weeks.
I can remember still feeling like I liked him, but not that I loved him. But at the end of the three weeks, I changed my mind and decided that I should just make him happy.
I went back.
I went to the Church first, and his brother was there. We sat and talked and he told me I didn't have a right to run away the way I did. He was crying. I said that I knew that and I was back and ready now. But he just kept crying. Then he looked at me and said, he was supposed to be your husband. He said, he was your responsibility.
I went to the Marine's house.
He wasn't there.
I went to my house.
They told me the day after the wedding the man I was supposed to marry had killed himself because I never came.
Laurie sat on my lap. I was in a wooden chair. A hard wooden chair. I think the Marine had built it for me or something. I thought I was going to throw up. They said it was my fault. Everyone just kept telling me that he was my responsibility.

Then I woke up. It was only six but I couldn't sleep anymore. So I buried my face in my pillow and cried. I now have this unbelievably ridiculous complex that if a Marine ever builds me a kitchen chair I am going to have to marry him. I didn't even read my chapter of Jeremiah yet this morning because I was frightened that it would say something that made me think that dream was more than just a nightmare. Reading through the prophets is sometimes hard.
Bell.