REWIND, REPLAY.

My body is on a weird, weird schedule that demands constant napping and a mandatory bathroom run at 1:00 AM. But tonight, I'm cool with it. During my 12:30-1:00 AM siesta, I had a basically fantastic dream.

The dream was that I was in Glasgow, and a boy named James who looked like Matthew Lewis that wore amazing sweaters (of Scottish wool) was eating spaghetti with me on my first Sunday in town. Fast forward four weeks: he's eating spaghetti with me again, but this time it's our last night together, and he promises me that we will make long-distance work.

 

And I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I'm pretty sure the story ends (or makes a great plot turn, however you'd like to put it) like this:

With a side of this (a little later):

And basically, we bring sexy and happily ever after back.

Why I dreamed this: A) we watched Brave today which made me cry (per usual) not because I love the story but because I love Scotland so freaking much, which made me think more about how I'm going to freaking Glasgow for a month in almost a month! B) I'm reading Middlemarch. C) Since coming home, a few people have asked me if I was dating anyone, which is nothing new, and I happen to know and love these people, and we laugh at how silly my life is and I just want to hug them because I love them so much and they make home great. One person, though, who might have been trying to be funny but came off mostly offensive (who, also, I have never had a conversation or any interaction with, so they should definitely know all about my life), responded to me saying "no, I'm not really dating anyone," by saying that the only reason anyone goes to Utah is to get married so that's too bad, that I am up there for nothing. They did really say that. I know that they have never been to Utah, so it sounded more like they thought I was doubly unsuccessful for not only not finding someone around home but also not finding someone in Mormon Mecca, instead of the people that can laugh about getting marriage in Mormon Mecca because it worked for them. And after they said that, I wanted to be like, "Excuse me?" And I wanted to give them judgmental eyebrows and tell her to tell that to my bachelor's degree. This is a dumb thing that I thought about all day but I will not keep thinking about. But it did make me think about all the amazing people I know, MORMONS, EVEN, that did not meet their spouses or get married in Utah. And meeting James in Scotland would definitely be an OK alternative to finding a Mr. Right in Utah Valley--The Home of Mr. Right.

This is not to say that I am too cynical about Provo to disdain every male in Utah Valley. On the contrary, my friends... I have to have someone real to giggle about with my roommates (they have never really taken my dreams about boys seriously. Probably because the last time they asked I said my dream man was Pope Francis) and chances are, if he's real and I know him right now, he is a BYU boy. The chances of that are actually 100%. (Michelle Kerr, hook a sister uppppp. Just kidding but maybe really...)

But if Sweater James Lewis and spaghetti and long distance and with the promise of marriage is deja-vued into existence this July, YOU BETTA BELIEVE I AM JUMPING ON DAT.

Y'all, he could even take the train to Dublin on my second-to-last night in the UK and tell me that he wanted to marry me and I'd be cool with it. Because that night would be my birthday. And I have the same birthday as Harry Potter, so it is a very magical and well-boding day.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm I do not really want to go to bed because just thinking more about this situation is so great. Building things up, especially unlikely and amazing things, is a special talent of mine, if you have never noticed...

Also, Sandi, I hope you like the white overalls picture. My mom and I were talking about my wedding reception (which is somehow more real than the idea that I will get married ever) and she, out of nowhere, told me that I would not be allowed to wear "that animal sweater and white overalls outfit." COME ON, MOM.