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Friday, February 25, 2005

Dreams Done Me Wrong

Again with low content. Played a couple NL ring games last night. Dropped half a buy-in with QQ against KK on an unhelpful board and spent the rest of the time clawing my way back to almost even. About that time, “Tilt” came on, so I gave it up.

Changing the subject, I am more and more convinced that I am completely cracking up.

When my alarm went off this morning, it mercifully rescued me from the depths of a fairly disturbing dream. I won’t bore anyone with the specifics – dream analysis is probably even more annoying than bad beat stories – but the diverse mix of topics seamlessly woven together bears mentioning. The dream featured a black tie dinner, my childhood home, being served grade-school-note-passing-style with a handwritten demand letter and lawsuit, a friend of mine from grad school that I had an endless crush on but haven’t seen in years, the place (in another state) where I lived during school, my parents, various nonexistent laws, a grisly murder scene, neighbors we never had and a Quaker notary.

At least I didn’t kill anybody. But I did discover the body.

The human imagination is a wonderful, awful thing. Only in dreams can the implausible become reality, with logical gaps bridged unobtrusively and details invented to fill in the holes in the story. My dream had all of this in spades – it somehow made sense that two places and two groups of people separated by years and at least six hundred miles were all connected. I was being sued by my friend for something factually and legally impossible – various landlord/tenant issues for the house I lived in, where of course she never lived – under a federal law, the WARN Act, which has absolutely nothing to do with rental property (the WARN Act deals with plant closings). My friend is actually a lawyer but is not in private practice, but my mind conjured up a non-existent but entirely realistic firm for her to be associated with so she could sue me. The murder was committed by a delivery person, so to make this as vivid as possible, a realistic but entirely phony company was plugged in to explain his presence. The one thing I can’t explain is how there was nothing poker-related. But somehow it all made sense and was real enough to be just this side of terrifying.


I’m not sure that I’ve ever been happier to hear the alarm as I was this morning, although I would love to have found out why the Quaker notary was about to make an appearance. As it is, I’m left wondering whether all of the diverse threads of this dream would have somehow been tied together and resolved, or whether perhaps things would have taken an even uglier turn. Alas, due to the requirements of the working world I didn’t get the chance to find out – we were sprawled out on the neighbor’s lawn waiting for the police and the notary when the buzzer sounded.

It’s another work day. No snooze for you. And so it ends. All in all, it is a very good thing that I don’t usually remember these dreams in detail once I wake up.

Okay. Now can I please just go back to my usual recurring nightmare of botching something so that I don’t get to graduate from college?

1 comment:

TenMile said...

All of that to hide from yourself you raised with the HAMMER and were beaten with the PP AA? LMAO

Nice Post.