This morning I dreamed I married Princess Diana. I don’t think she was really into it.
We were in a private civil ceremony, and while she was dressed in her usual conservative elegance, I was in an over-sized sweatshirt and shorts (what I happened to be sleeping in). After an official said a few words, we were to sign a book. She signed first, very carefully caligraphing the letters, scratching them out several times and writing them over. Someone said she was doing her “chancellery hand.” I mentioned that I had several calligraphic hands that I could write in, but the fellows there said that it was traditional for it to be a Roman hand, which I knew to be big bold capital letters. I opted for a modern signature, but I didn’t want it to be my current illegible scrawl, so I drew it carefully. It wound up with oversized vowels, making it look like a child’s signature.
Also present was Prince Charles, Diana’s ex-husband, looking a lot younger than he does on the cover of that gossip paper with the headline about him being gay. It made me think that the picture was of Prince Philip, the Queen’s husband. Being as Diana was no longer wife to the Prince of Wales, I thought her title now was Duchess of York.
She did not speak to me, and barely looked at me during the ceremony and procedure, and quickly went of to lunch with a friend at a nearby café. I followed her there so I could suggest we get together sometime over the week to get to know each other a little before the big wedding that would take place a week later. Neither she nor her friend really seemed into it. Her friend even said some ostensibly polite but blatantly dismissive thing to me. I said some quasi-sarcastic thing about being sure that she would be a nice person if she wanted to.
I think I was selected mostly at random for this marriage, like she had to be married to someone for some reason, which was why I was unprepared for it.
Most of the rest of the dream has faded now. I think it may have been inspired by recent interactions with women I have met that don’t quite seem to develop into dates or relationships. This is all part of getting “back into the swing of things” after a particularly effective dismantling of my social life through the course of a recent relationship.