Of arranged marriages and creepy dreams

I just clicked on a link for Shaadi.com (out of curiousity... not out of any desire to marry myself off. I know that I'm twenty and by all rights by the standards of certain eras and cultures should already be saddled with 5 children, but I prefer to keep my spoiled twentyfirst century outlook), which advertises itself as "The World's Best Matrimonial Website", and it was interesting looking at all the people looking specifically for spouses. A new approach to arranged marriage? I actually have a lot of friends whose parents were arranged, and it actually seems to tend to work out pretty well, with the exception of my friend N's parents, who apparently don't ever speak except to threaten divorce. I guess that's what happens in non-arranged marriages, though, so can't pass judgement. I think there also might be a different kind of mindset going in, more of a straightup "well, I'm with this person and specifically have to build a family, so let's start from here and see where it goes", rather than whatever it is that motivates marriages nowadays. One interesting / annoying fact about the website-- you could look for either "Bride" or "Male", which gave it sort of a breeding farm feel. The other criteria? Age or religion. Once you've managed to hook yourself a 18-24 year old Hindi Bride, there's apparently nothing else to it.

Fuzzy told me his parents were arranged, and he apparently twice allowed them to set him up with girls, with the understanding that this was for marriage purposes. Family allegiances had been studied, and hands had been rubbed together in anticipation. Blind dates with far more pressure. The first girl apparently was the most hideous thing he had ever seen, albeit nice, and the second one was ok, but then he went off to grad school.

Speaking of Fuzzy... had a bizarre dream last night wherein I went to see him in Canada. He apparently was laid up with something, so his brother, who I never have seen before in my life, came to pick me up at the airport. Drove drove drove through the countryside and was ushered in to him, somehow without seeing the house. I stepped into the room, he dove at me and swept me up, but somehow also managed to snip off all the ends of my fingernails in the process. We sat and talked. Turns out that he was recovering from a sex-change operation, though he looked as hairy and masculine as ever. Apparently the changes weren't in the "physical realm of his being". At that point, I looked down at my newly stubby fingernails, and realised he had cut them off to protect himself from me. I woke myself up at this point. There's probably not that much involved in it, but since I'm reading The Hero with a Thousand Faces right now, my instinct is to analyse and see what I can garner from it. Where it fits into "the monomyth", etc. I don't know. It bizarrely really freaked me out, and I want to write him and tell him about it, but I can't.

Alternatively, it could just be a result of eating cream puffs before bedtime.