Imperfect Bride

Last night I dreamt that women would submerge their faces in bowls of scalding hot oil to ruin their features when they got married. This would be part of the rite, which took place the morning after the man and woman became one. It had something to do with keeping other men away from someone's wife.

I was in line waiting to dunk my face in boiling oil. I passed by women who were sitting with their eyes still shut from when they put their face to the liquid. They waited in painful silence to go numb; some of them tried to cry, but couldn't anymore. Others were trying not to scream. And others were probably shivering with piercing hot daggers of pain.

I don't remember doing that to myself. But all of a sudden I was rubbing some type of cream on my face when a man came up to me and talked to me about how clever I was. He came over and started to wipe it off, and all of the blisters and blemishes came off with it. My skin was more radiant than it ever was.

It made me imperfect, dishonorable, and frowned upon.