My sister-in-law’s wedding in London is fast approaching. The Princess has a starring role as bridesmaid. The other night I dreamt that I was somehow unable to get the Princess ready and left the job to her father. To my horror, she turned up at the ceremony in jeans and with her hair unbrushed. Her aunt had, inexplicably, drafted in little English bridesmaids who looked like Kate Moss’s bridesmaids and they stood at the altar looking contemptuous.
I woke up and said to my husband in tones of deep annoyance, “How could you not have brushed her hair?” He, understandably, refused to take responsibility for the workings of my unconscious mind.
What are we to make of this?
