My Dream
I know that writing about dreams is gay and retarded. I also know that it is technically not ok to describe something as gay or retarded, however I'll use the defense that instantly relieves me of any wrongdoing. This simple phrase has saved many a man while he was being culturally insensitive.
I have lots of black friends.
Now that I have been absolved I will continue. I know that writing about dreams is gay and retarded. When people decide to prattle on about their dreams, most of us just check out. After all the meaning of these dreams is often thick and cloudy. But every once in a while a dream is worth hearing about. Martin Luther King had a dream, technically he had lots of dreams, but only one of them was worth hearing about. That dream had something to do with driving a car and his mother and the owner of the local butcher shop were backseat driving and then the car started to fly. It was weird to hear him talk about, but he thought it was a metaphor for how he was lonely as a child.
Recently I had a dream that I feel is worth sharing. I dreamt about being a professional baseball player. I had fulfilled the dream. There I was with a big league ball club. I was the starting right fielder for the San Diego Padres. This is a glorious scenario. Most boys dream of becoming professional baseball players. I say 'most' because some boys do not have this dream. These boys have no souls. But in my dream I had become what I always wanted to be as a child. I was a big leaguer.
There was one problem...in this dream I wasn't Joe-who-can-play-baseball. I was Joe-who-is-tall-awkward-and-has-no-coordination. It was as if I was placed in the big leagues purely by accident. I couldn't hit, field, run...I even forgot my glove in my car. I was terrified the ball would be hit to me, I was terrified to stand in the batter's box. I was terrified of fans throwing things at me. I was miserable. I finally woke up and it was clear that I hadn't been sleeping well. I was sweating, my muscles were tense and I was breathing quickly. The dream of playing professional baseball had morphed into a nightmare.
When did the dreams of my youth become nightmares? What the fuck is wrong with me? Honestly this dream should have been better than the dream I had about a girl with three boobs that was REALLY into me. But it was one of the worst nightmares I've had since the one I had about that girl's husband finding us in bed together. Clearly, I've snapped. I've decided to get some help. This dream is a clear indication of how far my mental health has slipped. Apparently I need to change my approach to life. Now every night I go to sleep praying I don't dream about something good happening to me, because my brain will twist this dream and make me not want it anymore.
I will add that I went back to sleep after my baseball nightmare and dreamt that I was playing professional hockey and I was really good at it. What does that mean?
I have lots of black friends.
Now that I have been absolved I will continue. I know that writing about dreams is gay and retarded. When people decide to prattle on about their dreams, most of us just check out. After all the meaning of these dreams is often thick and cloudy. But every once in a while a dream is worth hearing about. Martin Luther King had a dream, technically he had lots of dreams, but only one of them was worth hearing about. That dream had something to do with driving a car and his mother and the owner of the local butcher shop were backseat driving and then the car started to fly. It was weird to hear him talk about, but he thought it was a metaphor for how he was lonely as a child.
Recently I had a dream that I feel is worth sharing. I dreamt about being a professional baseball player. I had fulfilled the dream. There I was with a big league ball club. I was the starting right fielder for the San Diego Padres. This is a glorious scenario. Most boys dream of becoming professional baseball players. I say 'most' because some boys do not have this dream. These boys have no souls. But in my dream I had become what I always wanted to be as a child. I was a big leaguer.
There was one problem...in this dream I wasn't Joe-who-can-play-baseball. I was Joe-who-is-tall-awkward-and-has-no-coordination. It was as if I was placed in the big leagues purely by accident. I couldn't hit, field, run...I even forgot my glove in my car. I was terrified the ball would be hit to me, I was terrified to stand in the batter's box. I was terrified of fans throwing things at me. I was miserable. I finally woke up and it was clear that I hadn't been sleeping well. I was sweating, my muscles were tense and I was breathing quickly. The dream of playing professional baseball had morphed into a nightmare.
When did the dreams of my youth become nightmares? What the fuck is wrong with me? Honestly this dream should have been better than the dream I had about a girl with three boobs that was REALLY into me. But it was one of the worst nightmares I've had since the one I had about that girl's husband finding us in bed together. Clearly, I've snapped. I've decided to get some help. This dream is a clear indication of how far my mental health has slipped. Apparently I need to change my approach to life. Now every night I go to sleep praying I don't dream about something good happening to me, because my brain will twist this dream and make me not want it anymore.
I will add that I went back to sleep after my baseball nightmare and dreamt that I was playing professional hockey and I was really good at it. What does that mean?
posted by Joe Chandler at
2:46 PM
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