Jack Squat

Here's the thing.
I don't know how to name blogs. Generally, I leave it blank, empty my mind and then just stick something random in the title bar and hit publish. I always think I could write a book, since I have all these awesome ideas and brilliant inspiration all around me. Then I realize two things, writing is hard and I would have to think of a title.
I mean, sure, I could have a select few read it and give me ideas for a title, but what's the point? It's going to have my name underneath it. It'll have my combination of words between the covers. So, I would be narcissistic and insist on finding my own title, nestled somewhere amongst my pages.
But that brings us back to writing is hard.

However, I have decided what to write about today.
I had a dream last week. I've told one or two people about it, so I can remember it well enough, or at least the details I remembered to tell them. It was a really strange, one of those dreams you kind of know you are dreaming in, but at the same time it all feels so real? Allow me to elaborate on my personal life before diving into the depths of my subconscious.
There's a boy, and he's cute and I kind of like him, but not enough to do anything about it. Right? Right. We've all been there, whether we admit it or not. We will call him Jack, for kicks and giggles, but if you're on a semi regular talking basis with me, you can guess.
SO. I am getting ready for my wedding, kay? and I'm wearing this really interesting wedding dress, right? And I am going down the aisle and there's Jack, looking handsome in a tux (which really bewildered me because I can noooooot picture "Jack" wearing a tux ever in his whole life. He was wearing chucks though, so that made me a little more comfortable.) And I notice that my maid(matron?) of honor was Leslie (whaaaa?) and his best man was Reed(double whaaaaaaaa?) and I found it sad that the only person "Jack" could find to be his best man was Reed, and then I said it was probably because "Jack" is super cranky and has no friends. Which is wrong wrong wrong, because he totally has friends. Like, two, maybe, but definitely enough that Reed wouldn't have to be his best man.
SO. Then we were magically at the reception, and it was awesome, except this crazy, and I mean certifiably, chick I used to work with was there as the DJ (which would never ever happen, she's bonkers, he and I are entirely too picky about music, PLUS I know for a fact that "Jack" had an encounter with her before she went nutzo, so there is just so much NOPE in that one detail, I knew it couldn't be real.) and it's all beautiful and perfect and just right, and then I realize that none of my family was there. My kids weren't even in the ceremony. Weird. My friends weren't there either, which was also incredibly wrong, because my friends are the kind of people that would karate chop a bouncer to get into my wedding. For real, though. So I start kinda looking at them, and I am starting to recognize some of these faces, and check it out - they are all brides and grooms that have used Boyd's Events for their weddings. No joke. Every single person that was at my reception were married, using the company I work for. Creepy.
And since they were all married, no one was there to catch my bouquet, which was sad for dream Brittany. So when we were exiting (we used cake sprinkles, btw. Totally okay for the environment, biodegradable and realllly pretty in pictures) and guess what?
The car we rode away in was a '67 Impala.
Driven by Dean Winchester.
But it didn't matter to Dream Brittany, because I had "Jack" and "Jack" was the sexiest man on earth and I didn't need a sexy Dean Winchester.

...
That specific moment was when I knew I was dreaming.

Dean>>>>>>"Jack"
True story, bro. Well, kind of.

Anywho, the prodigal ginger brother has at long last returned to the house (aka Kyle, who moved out and I've only seen at family functions since, is here and has decided we are having a movie night) so I must bid you adieu, my loves.
Stay brilliant.
-B.