I had a dream last night. Dreams are forgotten as quickly as they come, so I'd better get this one down on paper.
I was at work with a bunch of people I had never met. They told me that a mobile inline hockey facility was just erected downtown and open for lunchtime pick up hockey. Creative idea! I was excited to join these co-workers for the ride to the rink, through a downtown I had never seen, in a car that was unfamiliar, with strangers who shared my passion for the game. I watched the scenery go by from the back seat. So far, normal stuff, could happen to anyone.
We arrive at the rink, and walk through a locker room filled with loaner equipment for all the players. Kinda gross, I think, but fortunately, I at least have my own skates and stick. The dream is unclear as to why I have these items with me during my lunch break from work. No matter.
We walk around the rink and there are players milling about, ready to get started, taking measure of one another. They all look like they are better than me, bigger, stronger, and with Canadian accents, but I am confident I will surprise them with my speed and deft stickhandling. I have no fear, only anxious anticipation.
I see a guy who looks familiar, and I walk right up to him. "Hey, you look familiar. We used to play hockey together back in high school. You're Eric, right?"
Now, I don't recall ever playing high school hockey with a kid named Eric, but again, this is a dream. Reality be damned.
Eric looks at me with his youthful smile and says. "No, that wasn't me. You must have played hockey with my dad." He gestures to an older gentleman next to him, his spitting image but with gray hair, wrinkles, and a more frail build.
Yes, he's right. It was his father that I must have recognized. I immediately forced myself to wake up before I shook the man's hand.
So, I wonder what this dream means?
No comments:
Post a Comment