A Football Dream

In this dream, I was in my early teens. Our school had a football team. I was not very good but they let me be on the team. I mostly played the bench.

We’d traveled away for a game. I suddenly had a feeling, I was going to play, and I was going to score a touchdown. In fact, as I thought about it, I became convinced that I was going to score three TDs. Moreover, I knew that one of these touchdowns would be on offense. The other two would be defensive scores.

The game began and I was not playing. Both teams were lackadaisical and the game was boring. I kept waiting to get in. Then, halftime arrived. The team sat around, joking and being silly. This frustrated me. I wanted the game to get on. I wanted to be in the game.

Halftime ended. Instead of continuing the game, a disorganized and chaotic scene ensued. I kept waiting for us to get back on the field. I didn’t know why, in accordance with the game’s rules and everyone’s established expectations, this wasn’t happening. But finally, yes, word came, the teams were to take the field. And, lo, I was sent out onto the field.

Some fast, intense violence, aka football, followed. I was playing okay. Then, I was on defense when a pass was tipped. I rocketed forward and got a hand on the ball. I meant to catch it and run but I instead batted and juggled it for several intense seconds as other players closed. Finally, just as someone was about to slam into me, I got control of the ball and raced into the end zone.

Then, just a few short plays later, I was on offense as a slot wide receiver. The ball was snapped. I stepped out right and cut sharply in toward the center of the field on a slant. The quarterback hit me in stride, and I was gone, and scored my second touchdown, my first on offense. Confusion swirled among my team mates. Some were asking, “Who was that?” Others were trying to confirm if I was the one who scored on the previous fumble recovery. A few were congratulating me and complimenting me on how well I was playing that day.

I was kept in the game on the opponent’s next drive. We were behind in the score by a few points. The other team’s offense set up to drive the field. But reading the play, I intercepted a pass and ran it back for a touchdown as the game ended. Amidst the jubilation, a reporter came up for an interview and confirmed that I’d scored my team’s only three touchdowns and asking me for my bio and playing info. While still on the field, sweaty and in my yellow and black uniform, I was shown a newspaper with a photo of me making the interception.

It was all very cool.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Slowing it down today. Thursday, innit? I’m starting to brake for the weekend, let me slide in there nice and gentle.

One of my preferred U2 albums is The Joshua Tree. A number of songs from that album speak to me, including “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. After the song was released, I often reflected that I was still looking, and I often didn’t know what I was looking for. In the years since, I’ve refined my sense of what I’m looking for. I attribute my writing efforts to closing that gap; writing prompts introspection and thinking about, well, what I’m thinking. It all helps.

The thing about the song as well is how it plays against a greater theme. Consider the import of the lyrics as Bono sings about climbing highest mountains, run through fields, and scaled city walls to be with someone. The stuff of true love, right? But yet, he still hasn’t found what he’s looking for. It’s like, they thought that one thing would satisfy their itch, only to achieve it and realize, that’s not it.

Most of us have been there, hey? We have a gap, ache, or longing, and we’re trying to understand it, and then, understanding it, try to understand how to fulfill it. It often feels with the journey of our life. People fill us with tales about how work, love, or having children will fulfill us, but that doesn’t work for all. Some find fulfillment with God or nature. Some of us look for it in art.

And some of us write like crazy.

 

Dream Fulfillment

When I was young, I imagined great careers for myself, glamorous and exciting vocations, like rock star or racing driver. Didn’t come close to either of those, but fulfilled one of them in last night’s dream.

Yes, I was a racing driver, an unknown in Formula 1. Being unknown bothered me not. I was just happy to be there. I was with another rookie driver. Short, he was from somewhere in South America. This was the season’s second race. He’d won the first race. I wasn’t in the first race, but the media was mobbing us because we were rookies, especially him, winning that first race, and his F1 debut.

The time for the current race arrived. There wasn’t any qualifying for reasons I don’t know, and I was starting from the back. (I think this was just a dream contrivance as a metaphor for how I view myself and my life sometimes.)

Then, just like that, I was surging through the field, was at the front and gone. My wife was in the pits, watching, and was mega-impressed. (Yes, I was given that view.)

“Where’s the other guy?” I wondered about my fellow rookie while the race was still going on. That question permitted me to view a screen in my car that showed the car’s relative positions, a setting that you can sometimes select in video racing games.

There was my car, in light blue, number one, and well ahead of the pack. The other rookie, in red, was fifth from last. I was exuberant for myself, and sympathetic for him.

I won, of course, amazing all. My wife’s excitement seemed to equal my own. If only life could be more like my dreams….

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