So, last night, I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that Lebron James, Dwayne Wade & Chris Bosh woke up in a hellhole of a hotel room a la Hangover 2-style. They did the customary “WTF happened, man?” but the best and strangest part was Lebron going stark raving nuts because he couldn’t remember if they won the Championship or not. He kept screaming over and over, “I just need to know! Did we win the Championship?!?!?”
And then later this afternoon, I took a nice leisurely-because-it’s-Sunday nap. I dreamed that I was walking down the streets of San Francisco. I think around Market and New Montgomery, maybe First Street. I remember being inside the huge Wells Fargo in there and oohing and aahhing the museum-like interior of the bank. Then I stepped out and onto the street where Brian Wilson (Closer for the SF Giants) nearly runs me over in the unmarked police vehicle that he drives. Then, somehow, we were at some coffee shop. And he doesn’t have his beard (thank GOD!) and he’s so utterly beautiful. Then he tells me he’s secretly married. I’m devastated. I don’t know if I cried in my sleep or not. But then, he goes, “I’m just kidding…” and his hand his rubbing my back. And I’m like, This is nice.
And then my dog goes nuts and starts barking ‘cuz my cousin has decided to stop over and rang the doorbell (my dog’s worst enemy is that infernal doorbell). And thus, Brian Wilson’s ocean blues float away and disappear into nothingness as I wake up.
But really, what’s up with all the athletes in my dreams lately?