No, this is nothing to do with Abba, but it was such a weird and vivid dream, I thought I’d write a piece of fiction about it.
She had always loved this dress. It was pale lilac with chiffon layers, trimmed with lace and imprinted with roses. It had a square neckline, fitted bodice and the hem came just below her knees.
It suited her slim elegant figure and was perfect for her friend’s wedding.
She admitted she was a little disappointed not to be asked to be Matron or Maid of Honour but that duty had gone to her friend’s sister, a frumpish thirty five year old who would not upstage the bride.
The three other bridesmaids were all several sizes bigger than her friend so she wondered, somewhat unkindly, if that was the reason she had not been asked. They had been friends since High School, and always compared notes on the latest diet and fashion trends as well as boys. She herself had never married, but this was her friend’s third fiance, and the only one to make it to the altar. The fact that she had dated him before her was incidental.
Patting her hair into place, she exited her apartment and locked the door.
She was making her own way to the church and knew she’d make a grand entrance, almost as much as the bride.
She smiled to herself. Who else was likely to turn up on a motor bike with side car?
My dream was of the dress and the motorbike. Why I should dream about them is anyone’s guess, though OB had a motorbike and sidecar (his birthday today) and I used to wear a similar dress to church on Sundays when I was about 10.