The Cotillion

Date: 10/15/2017

One day I find out I forgot I agreed to participate in a cotillion. It’s unusual to the point I was even surprised I knew what the word referred to. Had to look it up afterwards to make sure I wasn’t too far off. Since it was sprung on me last minute there was a lot of stress in getting ready. I had to dress up fancy in seldom-used clothes I had to dig up, had to memorize a bunch of rules and dance moves, and had to grab a bunch of things including my fast food dinner as we rush out the door to a location I wasn’t sure where it was. I was apparently doing this for the sake of my mom, not that she’s the kind of mom to get me involved in stressful social events at this age, and also whoever my mysterious dance partners were, I guess. I was acutely aware not long into the process that it was a dream, and therefore I had no actual obligation to keep going, but I guess I was curious enough to see where it was going. Unfortunately, I never actually made it to the cotillion. I spent the latter part of the dream just driving around the city trying to figure out where it was. I had to dig around for the address, which I had a lot of trouble typing into my phone’s map due to autocorrect. While driving around where I thought it might be, I did run into my dad who was taking another car (not sure why the whole family was traveling separately). I eventually ask him where we’re supposed to go and he says it’s a new area that won’t be in the maps yet. To get it pinpointed down, I end up pulling out a map printed on a pair of underwear for some reason. It’s about at that point I figure my subconscious was just making fun of the whole thing.