Field of Dreams
We got married in a fever… a hot muggy day in a Michigan garden. Green grass, white tent, pink, yellow, and purple flowers all around with sunflowers floating in a pool of azure. Lush heavy air wrapped around us with the Russian Orthodox epitrachelion (stole) enfolding our wrists together. It was so many moons ago.
The wedding re-enactment (dream version) took place in a very dry field of grass. CA drought has addled my brain and dried out all the humidity. Brown, hot, dry. All the same people, flowing yards of silk in all the colors of the rainbow. We were set up for filming, there was a very tall directors chair and the director was a Wes Anderson look alike, though I am pretty sure Martin Scorcese was running around with a clip board shouting orders. Presiding officiate was Opra Winfrey. She descended from the bleachers at the far end of the baseball diamond in the corner of the field. She floated across the field dressed in full pink, golden crown, wielding a star shape wand, just like the good witch in the Wizard of Oz.
Surrounding our little wedding party and film crew on the hot barren edges of this field, the robots circled. They were giant metal insects the size of dinosaurs. They could well have been transformers. The black hot metal wings of the cicada scraped together making an extremely amplified screeching sound. The beetle had a red jewel on it’s belly. Ominously lumbering, coming closer and closer.