Katy McKenna Raymond  
Personal blog of christian writer Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri


Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary

Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net

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Yeah, What She Said

One of my very favorite authors, Lisa Samson, who's taking a breather before beginning her next book, reveals this on her blog:

"Woke up at 4 a.m. the morning before yesterday with the best idea of my writing career. Don't you love it when that happens? I mean, you feel like God might have nudged your shoulder and whispered it as you came to consciousness. So much so, you hesitate to even take credit for it. But I'm excited. And after the sabbatical, I'll be ready to hit the ground running. Here's hoping your day is filled with new, great ideas and that God whispers in your ear."

I awakened at 4 a.m. drenched in sweat. Don't you hate it when that happens? The attic fan purred and the room temp must have been 55 degrees or less, if that's even possible in August in Kansas City.

I was on fire, not with fever, but with terror.

In my hours-long nightmare, which I fervently hope did not have its origins with a merciful God, Doug and I struggled to get ready and arrive on time for a wedding. And not just any wedding, of course--the wedding we've waited for since we first started having dreams for our children.

You see, in real life, our oldest son Scott will marry his sweetheart Brooke on August 21. Please join me in praying that my dream had nothing to do with real life.

As terror would have it, Doug and I left the house to pick up some relatives who live far, far away. Until we arrived at their home, I didn't realize I'd forgotten my wedding clothes, jewelry, hair stuff, shoes, and purse.

There was no time to turn back, no open stores, no hope at all except to make do with what these relatives happened to have on hand--not if we were to get to the wedding in time to see the groom kiss the bride.

So I made do. OMG, did I make do...

The whole family of relatives scrambled to my aid, God bless them. Little Logan lended me her tarnished silver stick pin with the "L," and even put it on me. Yes, me. It seems that in nightmares, stick pins are no longer stuck through the bodice of a dress, poked back through the front of the fabric, and topped off with a little cap.

These nights, the three-inch-long pin is stuck in the top of the hand, passed under a vein or two, and popped out near the wrist.

It didn't hurt, exactly, and almost looked attractive after Logan put the matching ring on my thumb.

My hair was another matter. In a premium-channel dream, I'd have gone to the beauty parlor, or had the stylist come to the church to attend to all the ladies in the wedding party. In a basic-cable dream, my daughter Carrie would have run a curling iron through my hair and I'd be thrilled.

In my 4 a.m. nothing-good's-on-TV version, my nephew Brendan handed me his 1/2 inch buzzer and let me have at it.

"Take off some more on the back, Aunt Katy," he urged. Why didn't I pay more attention to the new, sleazy tone in his voice? "...and the top on the left side's way too long. Yeah, that's it..."

By the time the rotten kid led me to a mirror, I looked like an Hassidic Jew who'd lost his religion.

The wedding was about to start and we were hours from the church, so we all piled into my brother's van and plowed down the highway. But what was I going to wear? The sweaty orange nightgown sure wasn't going to cut it.

By the time we pulled up to the church, my well-meaning sister-in-law, Cyndi, and her three freaky kids had outfitted me in an assortment of stuff they kept in the glove compartment for nightmares like this.

I emerged from the van just in time to see Scott and Brooke, all aglow in freshly-thrown rice, climb into a stretch and be chauffered into idyllic married life.

I waved bon voyage to my son and his beatific bride before looking down.

Cyndi had sausaged me into a pair of gold lamme stirrup pants that accentuated my hip and thigh bulges exquisitely. Actually, with the right shoes--and Shaylyn's blue plastic Nike soccer slides weren't the right shoes--and a long tunic, the pants might have worked.

Too bad the turquoise spandex sports bra didn't cut it. Although I must say, the color did wonderful justice to the veins in my stomach.

It was a good thing I didn't let the kids apply any mascara, 'cause I bawled my shaved head off.

I'm not jealous of other people's dreams and I try not to be picky but please, dear God.


Can't I just have what Lisa Samson's having?
Posted by Katy on 08/12/04 at 08:29 AM
Fallible Comments...
  1. -----
    Posted by Catalyst4Christ  on  08/12/04  at  04:31 PM
  2. Now THAT was funny....
    Posted by rebecca  on  08/12/04  at  05:03 PM
  3. That gives "I have a dream" all new meaning. Too funny.
    Posted by will  on  08/12/04  at  06:34 PM
  4. I don't know, Katy, your idea was whole lot funnier than mine!
    Posted by lisa samson  on  08/13/04  at  12:34 AM
  5. wow. talk about vivid dreams!
    Posted by joshua  on  08/16/04  at  02:14 AM
  6. the pre dawn ones are always the most bizarre, not to mention full of i-swear-it's-real life sweat and stickpins. hope you went back to sleep for awhile and had better dreams, katy!
    Posted by lisa  on  08/18/04  at  03:59 AM
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    44. Page 1 of 1 pages
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