Dream Journal: Clubs Tryouts, Pranks, and War (February 9, 2009)

PREFACE

Some of you have asked how much liberty I take in transcribing what I actually experience in my dreams to written word. Let me first say, that my dreams are so vivid, I truly believe that I am living them. Still, I realized that they are just dreams, which imbues me inhuman courage and presence-of-mind through my frequent life-or-death situations. This practiced calm may cross-over a little bit into my waking life.

Anyway, when it comes to dream details, there are some circumstances when I don't actually hear words but feel specific ideas that are being communicated around me through body language and EPS, if you will. In other words, if a certain character could speak, their words would be indisputably clear.

In very few circumstances, I "fill-in-the-blanks". For example, in this following dream sequence, I had a clear picture of what my dog, Dexter, looked like. However, I didn't remember his name upon awaking. So deducing from my memory of his appearance and what I would name him now, I assume that I would have given him the same name in my dream.

Without anymore delay: LAST NIGHT'S DREAM . . .

DREAM

1) The University of Washington Tennis/Dance/ Frisbee-Dog Team Tryouts

I was really excited to tryout for the Tennis/Dance/Frisbee-Dog Team at UDub. Tryouts were two-weeks long. After the first week, I felt like I was competing around the middle of the group (including returning members from previous years). My tennis was terrific. I was a little slow picking up the dance routines, but my technique was outstanding. Now all I had to do was get through the Frisbee-Dog section of the tryout and I was a shoe-in! Little did I know that they made cuts along the way.

At the end of the Dance tryouts, a list was read. If your name wasn't on the list, you were out. My name wasn't on the list. I asked if there was some mistake. They said, "no." I asked if I could have another chance; I was really good at the next section. "No." they said. "We're looking for well-rounded players."


So I sulked. I was cut from the U of Washington Tennis/Dance/Fribsee-Dog Team because I couldn't dance. One of the returning team members saw how dejected I was and offered me the left-overs of the last two-weeks-worth of cake that was served at Team tryouts. That made me feel a little better. The lemon meringue cake was delicious!


I walked out of the club house on the the Frisbee field and practiced throwing my Frisbee to my dog, Dexter. It was seamless; we were really on one that day. I tried our most challenging event: The Speed/Accuracy Return. The object of the game was to throw the Frisbee into small circles drawn in the grass 50, 100 and 150 yards away. The trick was that the dog had to catch it inside the boundary of those circles. You were awarded points depending on which circle you chose, and how fast your dog was able to return with the Frisbee. Dexter was hitting the 150 yard circle and racing it back at record speeds EVERY TIME. A crowd started to form. The Team Administrator stood on the side with his stop-watch. Boy, did he feel silly for cutting me! Dexter and I could have won meets for him single-handedly in this event. The administrator returned to the tent to make a phone call. Dexter and I spitefully walked off the pitch, basking in the warm applause of those who stood on the sidelines. Boy, were those buffoons sorry when they saw me throw a Frisbee.


2) The University Baking Team

Resigned to my club-less university status, I left the Frisbee field and watched as a Freshman girl tried out for the University Baking Team. As a prize for even trying out, club-hopefuls received a valuable hard candy in a red wrapper. On the inside of the candy wrapper was a secret recipe known only by club members. On the candy wrapper, there were also instructions to an improv game that would be played to determine qualification to become a member of the Baking Club. In order to win, you had to outwit the two senior, team captains at the improv game. It was very hard to win since it was always 2-against-1. The game I witnessed was called: Inquizitor. The purpose was to only ask questions back and forth, and the first person to mess up lost. The twist was that you had to include the ordered letters "d-o" somewhere in your question but it couldn't be the actual word "do" or a derivation thereof. The game was heated, but the girl was victorious. However, she lost the following two games, disqualifying her for entrance. I thought about inviting her to eat some cake with me, but I didn't.


3) I Kissed a Girl

The U of Washington campus was more like and amusement park than a college campus. There were people of all ages scattered everywhere. There were concession stands every 100 feet. And the atmosphere was always gay and playful. However, there was one little girl who couldn't have been more than 7-years-old that really ticked me off. (BTW, I am now transformed into a 6-year-old girl.) I was furious at this other girl because she never said anything nice about anyone and yet she was so popular; all the boys flocked around her, feeding off of her every insult. I wanted to do something evil to her. The worst thing I could think of was kiss her on the lips! So I did. She almost went into a catatonic state. Wide-eyed, she asked everyone around her for some Listerine or some antiseptic, but everyone turned her away. She started becoming frantic, fearing that the kiss would set-in forever if she didn't get it off fast. In desperation, she ran to the College Freshman Chemists down by the fountain (who were well-known for their practical jokes) for relief. They told her to fill her mouth with water and rub ash all over her mouth. The bratty girl spent the next 40 minutes searching for a clean water source instead of drinking out of the fountain, a nearby faucet or even a public drinking fountain. Served her right.


4) The Island vs The Giver

I was captured and held captive in an underground facility. In order to disorient us, we were forced to move to different, identical looking rooms every hour or so. We lost our sense of time after a while since there were no clocks or natural lights. We were allowed to socialize in groups though. In ever room there were lists of names grouped together with the instructions to stay together or ELSE! Naturally, those instructions were tested and nothing happened to the rebels, so I decided to make a friend in another group. (Though most people didn't want to tempt fate, and stayed in their group.)

I was in one of the many empty rooms with one of my friends that I had made there. My friend told this secret: "This is the room where people don't come back front. They say that it is the elevator that returns you to the surface."

My friend and I would play in that empty room whenever we had a chance. Most of the time we were assigned groups to play in. Unfortunately, I wasn't in my friends group so I had to sneak off and be with him when they were in the room and he did the same when it was my group's turn. One day we were testing to see if the elevator was moving by jumping up and down and seeing if the forces on our bodies were any different---and they WERE! We were going up! We didn't know what to expect--our animal instincts were armed. The elevator stopped and a secret latch opened revealing a man in a Hazmat suit.


"Congratulations are in order for your ingenuity. We've been watching you for weeks. Please line up here and you will be shown to a changing room where the doctor will give you your physical."

We did as we were told. As we past the man in the suit, I noticed him ticking off names on a group sheet. I did my best to remain anonymous and sneaked into the first changing room I could find. I hid out there for some time before I was discovered. My friend had seen where I went and had already received his physical. As he pasted my door he mouthed the words so I could see: "Military Medical".

Just then another man in a Hazmat suit entered my hiding place. "Oh, I didn't see you come in Charlie. Take you clothes off and put on this long tunic; the doctor will be in momentarily."

I followed his directions and wondered what I was do if the real Charlie walked in. The Doctor entered the room. To my alarm, I recognized the man in the doctor's coat jacket. It was John Hilton III. And he knew me. His eyes screamed what are you doing here, but his lips remained quiet.

"Up on the table, Charlie." Dr. Hilton said. We are going to examine you and send you on your way. You finally get to leave this place."

Interrupting, a gruff-looking man in a military uniform barged in and demanded, "what is he?"

"I haven't begun the divination yet, General." replied Dr. Hilton.

"Well, let me do it! The buses leave in 10 minutes!" Snorted the General.

The general crouched down and peered at me. My muscles flexed. The Generals eyes widened.

"Legionor!" He whispered delightedly.

Dr. Hilton gave me a startled look of fear and remorse. "Are you sure about that, General?" He prodded.

I didn't know what a Legionaire, but from the look Dr. Hilton gave me, I didn't want to find out. "I have many other strengths General. Look and see."

The General glared at me again. I tried to relax yet appear as "anti-war" as I could.

"Medical Operator?" The General was second-guessing his own divination as it came out of his mouth.

"Yes, Sir!" I called out. "I'll be brave and assertive and do my best to save the troops!" I had no idea what I was talking about and both Dr. Hilton and the General knew it.

"Excellent read, General" piped in Dr. Hilton, signing my papers and ushering me to the exit that led to the buses.

My friends bus was full so I got on the closest one to it. I was with a group of 12-year-olds. I asked them what they were and almost all of them were "Infantrates". I deduced that these poor, little guys were the front lines. "Legionaires" were the secondary offense. And the "Legionor" was the leader of about 5000 Legionaires. There was one "Medicator's apprentice" on the bus. His doctor told him that he would have to be very brave as his responsibilities would include collecting those who had fallen in action. I could only assume that "Medical Operator" was an important office far away from the front lines since it was comparable to a Legionor and since Dr. Hilton didn't seem worried.


We rode on the bus for a long time. I was in the back; so I got to see a lot of the little 12-year-old vomit out of angst.