Ruins of a Tropical Hotel

I stood in the shower this morning and thought of my purple and white striped tie that I wore to Matt May's wedding and then out again this Saturday night. Did I spill a bit of drink on it at Aaron's birthday party? Does it need to be dry-cleaned?

And the dream rushed back to me.

You were wearing a purple dress and I was worried that the aforementioned tie did not match quite well enough. I was late, still not showered, having just returned from exploring the flooded ruins of a tropical hotel, crumbling into the ocean. I had tried to leap from one jut of stone to another but barely missed, slipping into the shallow water and surrendering the integrity of my pocketed cell phone to briny dysfunction.

You were wearing a purple dress and we were at a wedding and the whole wedding party was waiting outside my door with fifteen minutes to go. Fifteen minutes. I needed to shower, and dress, and knot my purple tie, still uncertain if it matched.

I had stepped out into a courtyard with now purposeless stone pillars all about me and encountered another family exploring those same ruins. And I had realized that it was not my first time to this hotel. I had recounted to the parents and tow-headed children my prior visit, and warned them of the leopards I encountered stalking amongst the once grand lobby and patios and suites. Be careful, I had told them. I would have shepherded and toured them safely through the ruins but I had been late.

I had rushed back to the wedding and into you with your purple dress. My pants were still sodden from my exploration and I needed to shower. I stepped into my room and I was lost. What was I doing and where was I? I had been here before, in another dream, and seen leopards in ruins, but I did not even know whose wedding I was attending.

And you were wearing a purple dress, and did my tie match?