wedding & butcher

My sister and I were preparing for a wedding. It was the day of the celebration and the guests were gathering. We arrived at the building where the wedding was to take place: a ground-level hall with stone arches and stone slab flooring. We were wearing white. We walked past the ceremonial area arm in arm and I realised that we were to be married to one another. I was alarmed and spoke with my sister saying that although I loved her, I did not want to get married to her. She agreed. We called off the wedding.

I was standing in line at a butcher shop. The shop fronted onto a stone paved footpath, open to the outdoors. In front of me at the counter was a woman with blond hair, wearing a white nightdress. She was barefoot. She ordered a big slab of meat which a butcher was weighing on a set of scales. She ordered a bigger piece, lamb I think, which he proceeded to weigh. She was telling the butcher that she was in love with another butcher who worked there. She wanted the first butcher to tell the other man of her love for him. He suggested that I was close to the man and that I could tell him. The woman turned around and begged me to tell the butcher of her love for him. Although I empathised with her, I felt resistant and protective of the butcher.