Subconscious weddings.

Fleur.
I often dream. Sometimes about things I do not like. Occasionally though, I will be blessed with a quiet sleep and something brilliant in my mind.
That was last night.
I went to bed earlier than everyone else. I had been talking to Kirsten, and after we stopped, I couldn't keep my eyes open. So I brushed my teeth and went to bed reciting "Endymion." I am trying to finish memorizing the first stanza.

I dreamed about trees. Tall, green trees. With light that flickered through the leaves. A soft light. And there were small white flowers everywhere.
I was somewhere I didn't know.
Bon Iver was playing. And there was a big log cabin, at least three stories tall. It was really huge. A piano sat in the first room you walked into. And I loved the kitchen. It was my kitchen.
It was my house.
People were everywhere. On the second floor were all the men. They were constantly asking me to tie their neckties. There had to be at least a dozen of them. All with slim grey neckties. Some of them were untangling a long string of lightbulbs.
On the third floor were the women. Dashing back and forth like little, flighty birds. Curlers in their hair. And only wearing tiny white slips.
La was in the middle of the room sitting on a wooden stool and putting eyeliner on. She wore a huge white dress. Made entirely of lace, except for an even bigger skirt of sheer chiffon that she wore over the top. It was embroidered with hundreds of tiny white dots.
Someone made me slip on a pale yellow dress made of silk. There was a huge tree embroidered on the back of it, right below my shoulderblades. And then Mandy was there, pulling my hair up for me and complaining about my convection ovens. She was wearing a similar yellow dress, but a different cut. And her's was covered in tiny white dots, mimicking La's dress.
The men kept knocking on the door and threatening to come in, and the ladies would shriek. I grew tired of it and marched after them, corralling a few to come help me string some more lights.
Four of them spent an hour with me, hanging picture frames and canning jars and lights from the biggest tree in the yard. And then we were attempting to hang my chandelier up over a wooden dancing floor.
I walked back into the kitchen to do something about lemons, and I looked at all the shoes lined up by the front porch.
Then I woke up.

I am assuming that this all has to do with me watching "Young Victoria" and wanting to read Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day again. Plus, both those have costumes to swoon over.

Also, I am going to see Kirsten Bean tomorrow.
This is my subconscious in an utterly happy state.