Sunday, May 5, 2013

She can't hit... She can't hit... She can't hit...

This time around, my pain pills have given me some pretty graphic and detailed dreams. Several have been downright trippy. A few have bordered on nightmares.

I woke up about 20 minutes ago after having a dream that I had somehow ended up being "recruited" (I use this term very loosely) for a men's baseball team. It wasn't a professional team but still had a good-sized fan base. Oddly, we played in what appeared to be an indoor training center/gym that was nowhere near as large as a normal baseball field.

Without question (which for me, is a clear enough indicator that it's a dream), I began putting on my uniform, which included pin-striped baseball pants and mis-matched, well worn black socks. One was a short faded sock that I found embarrassed me a little. The other was darker black, knee-high and had a dollar coin sewn into the top of it, presumably for superstition/good luck's sake. Both were floppy men's socks.

As I suited up, I realized that I had never attended a single day of practice and had also missed the first inning or so of the game. I figured I should hurry up before I lost my shot. I laughed knowing that I likely wouldn't be able to hit the ball - much less round the bases, but I'd be able to cross this adventure off my bucket list.

I was overly worried about my hair. I had shaggy, curly hair that was a great deal longer than it's current length, but still too short to pull pack into a ponytail, despite repeated attempts. I opted to wear a plastic headband to tame the curls since clearly, that made sense under a baseball hat.

I made my way down to the bench. Since this was in the training facility/arena, it meant that there wasn't a dugout - just a green waffle bench (that later turned into red laminate - like a countertop). I brought with me my cell phone, a wide-banded black headband (in case the one I was wearing broke, I guess) and a brush and placed them on the bench. All very useful items, of course. My teammates told me if I brooded and snarled when I walked, my curly hair sticking out of my hat would be totally badass. I practiced this walk and decided they were right. I WAS totally badass this way.

The men on the team welcomed me with open arms but we didn't know each other. As we chit-chatted, I realized that my too-big pants were on backwards. I debated whether I should drop trou on the sidelines to fix them or run into the locker room. A teammate told me not to worry; that he takes his pants off right there all the time and that he's smooth as a baby's bottom. "Wanna see?" I shook my head and walked away. (What the hell kind of dream is this!?! Walked away???) I decided that ripping the tag out and dealing with a poofy front (back) of my pants was best.

One of the men told me that he'd gladly be my pinch hitter. I thanked him, said no and told him that I really wanted to take a swing myself. I knew, though, that since I was out of shape, running was a comical thought if I DID happen to hit the ball. He told me that since he had recently come to the aid of a teammate in a bar fight, I should instead consider him for a pinch runner then. Given his act of bravery, I gave him the job.

My jersey number was 5. I had no idea what the lineup was but was told to wait until they called my name - much like a food order at a restaurant. I wasn't particularly anxious or afraid. I was really only mildly excited but knew I'd get to cross it off that bucket list...

I ran my hand through my curly hair and waited. And waited. And waited.

And woke up.

Woke up annoyed.

I didn't get my chance at bat.

This was by no means one of my more wacky dreams lately, but it was just as vivid and "real". I've always had fantastic dreams but in the last year, in particular, I seem to not have as many or remember them for as long. It's like I can literally feel them fading away like a puff of smoke when I wake up.

This is also the first time that I've actually written down (thumb-typed?) a dream right as I've woken up. With all these druggie dreams, I should have done it sooner, but some could have prompted a visit from the little men in the white coats, so perhaps it's good that I didn't have this epiphany until today.

It's about 6am here right now. The house is dark and I all I can hear is Matt breathing next to me and the ceiling fan whirring. Maybe there's still some dream power left.

Hoping for a good one...

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