Betsy once told me nobody else cares about your dreams
Last night I had a dream that was really fun for me. It went like this:
I had joined a floor hockey team. It was being run by the place in Tucson where I used to take my car to have it fixed, “the Tire Corral.” Somehow this was also my high school. At first nobody on the team respected me. My floor hockey skills were poor at best. Then they put me in the goal. I was the best.* My status on the team rose greatly and our team became unbeatable. We had one opponent; our rival high school. My reputation preceded me. All the girls at the rival high school were enamored by me and my amazing goal tending abilities. They made this very clear through flirtatious post on various social networking websites.
On the day of the big game I was distressed to realize that everyone else had jock straps but I did not and I would be the one who would have the most pucks shot at me. I can’t remember how the jock strap thing worked out, but I think we won the big game.
I was abruptly awoken by a charlie horse in the left calf. I have never had one of these before. It was extremely painful and interesting at the same time. My calf got super hard and twitchy. I discovered that I could alleviate the pain by moving my ankle to a different position. Problem solved. My calf still hurts though.
*This dream is partially based in reality. When I was in seventh grade I played goalie on our gym floor hockey team. For some reason I did really well. Only one goal was ever scored against me, the was done by the evil Marco G_______ . I did so well that Kent B________ (last names withheld so that this post will not show up in anybody's google searches), the best hockey player in school called me “the wall.”** To my knowledge this earned me NO respect from any girls in real life. This was my one and only glorious sports moment, and subsequently has left me with the vague notion that I am a “good” goalie. On the few occasions since then when this theory has been tested, it has proved to be largely unsupportable.
**He would lose this title once Hayes and Beagle Middle School combined for high school. A kid a couple years behind us ended up playing for the Edmonton Oilers in 2006 when they made it to the championship.
This post is the result of reading of too many ironic memoirs by white guys who never did anything all that extraordinary; such as Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Sean Wilsey’s Oh the Glory of it All.
I had joined a floor hockey team. It was being run by the place in Tucson where I used to take my car to have it fixed, “the Tire Corral.” Somehow this was also my high school. At first nobody on the team respected me. My floor hockey skills were poor at best. Then they put me in the goal. I was the best.* My status on the team rose greatly and our team became unbeatable. We had one opponent; our rival high school. My reputation preceded me. All the girls at the rival high school were enamored by me and my amazing goal tending abilities. They made this very clear through flirtatious post on various social networking websites.
On the day of the big game I was distressed to realize that everyone else had jock straps but I did not and I would be the one who would have the most pucks shot at me. I can’t remember how the jock strap thing worked out, but I think we won the big game.
I was abruptly awoken by a charlie horse in the left calf. I have never had one of these before. It was extremely painful and interesting at the same time. My calf got super hard and twitchy. I discovered that I could alleviate the pain by moving my ankle to a different position. Problem solved. My calf still hurts though.
*This dream is partially based in reality. When I was in seventh grade I played goalie on our gym floor hockey team. For some reason I did really well. Only one goal was ever scored against me, the was done by the evil Marco G_______ . I did so well that Kent B________ (last names withheld so that this post will not show up in anybody's google searches), the best hockey player in school called me “the wall.”** To my knowledge this earned me NO respect from any girls in real life. This was my one and only glorious sports moment, and subsequently has left me with the vague notion that I am a “good” goalie. On the few occasions since then when this theory has been tested, it has proved to be largely unsupportable.
**He would lose this title once Hayes and Beagle Middle School combined for high school. A kid a couple years behind us ended up playing for the Edmonton Oilers in 2006 when they made it to the championship.
This post is the result of reading of too many ironic memoirs by white guys who never did anything all that extraordinary; such as Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Sean Wilsey’s Oh the Glory of it All.