My Non Freudian Dream.

I wasn't an athlete in high school. Not even close. It wasn't like I was undersized, uncoordinated, a lame polio survivor or anything like that. As a matter of fact, I held my own pretty well on the playground in elementary school, but by the time we were old enough for the sports to be organized, the practice fields were 12 miles from my little rural house of isolation and a Dad who put in long hours in the plastic factory meant they might as well of been on the other side of the world. Gradually I became one of the last kids to be picked for gym class teams and I realized if I were ever to blast away from Appalachia my best hope would be to fire up my nuclear powered brain.

I'm not bitter about it, but I always thought if I would have had a chance, I could have developed some moves on the field, or court or course or whatever.

Last night in my dream I was on my high school basketball team. There was the actual basketball coach from my old high school telling me he'd put me in for a few minutes, but when I was on the bench, I was to sit in an old, beat up, ready to fall down folding chair, unlike the rest of the kids who got to sit in real chairs.

During warm ups, all my practice shots bounced right off the basket because there was a plastic cover over the hoop. I pointed out to coach that if it weren't for the plastic cover all my shots would be hitting nothing but net. He didn't seem impressed.

Sure enough, at an unimportant part of the game, coach told me to get my ass in there. A couple minutes later I unexpectedly found a ball whizzing towards my head. I caught it and whipped it towards the hoop. Nothing but net baby. I had scored. A meager two points, yes, but the most incredible feeling in the world.

Maybe I really could compete here.

That basket got me another chance and I hit the hoops again. My teammates kept testing me and I kept up the scoring. Gradually it became apparent that this wasn't a fluke. Not only could I hang for a bit, I could make it. I could own this world.

In my dream though, I kept sitting in that piece of crap chair, no matter how big I got. Because I always wanted to be reminded of what it felt like to have no one believe in you. I wanted to remember always what it was like to be motivated by a world of haters and use that to spur myself forward.

It took me a couple hours at the store today to figure out that dream. You see, according to the Quickbooks, two of my first three months have been profitable. I've found a ball whizzing towards my head and managed to take a shot at the hoop. Finally, I've found my chance and that first shot has sunk into the net. A mere two points, yes, but maybe... I really can compete here.

I just hope I have the equivalent of that crappy chair somewhere. Something that will keep my head from getting too big:

I believe you voted for Obama Bin Laden TWICE! You get what you pay for. Pelosi must be your rep because "we have to pass it to find out what's in it." Fortunately, you are an independent, so that means you can't bite the hand that feeds you, like you did at Rite-Aid. You are now having to realize what business is all about, and that ObamaCommiecare will threaten ALL small businesses. Sevres you Rite. You'll be asking for Aid when selling your files to Walgreens (oh the irony). (Actual piece of hate mail from a fan in Florida who writes in regularly) 

I'm thinking that won't be a problem. I wish my chair wasn't quite so insane though.

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My Non Freudian Dream.
My Non Freudian Dream.
Reviewed by malaria
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Rating : 4.5