Dream

ive never posted a dream before but i must attempt to post the dream i had last night because in the middle of the dream i vaguely remember telling myself that i would post this on my blog.  (and when i say 'this' i mean a specific part in the dream) BUT i will just go through all the stuff i can remember.  (this dream, by the way, was the time between 8:38am and 9am when i woke up and then we back to sleep)

ok here we go:

It was a beautiful day out at regent college.  however, regent college looked a bit different.  it kinda reminded me of an old fashioned southern hotel that still had a huge atrium/cafeteria type area for group gatherings.  as i said before, it was a beautiful day.  but it wasnt a beautiful vancouver day but rather a beautiful southern day.  it wasnt north carolina though....but some sort of louisiana landscape.  this is a creepily good picture of what im trying to portray.  gorgeous blue sky with gnarly mossy branches that have more bends than _______ (fill in metaphor)

"oh so we are in louisiana" says the 'hey i like to form conclusions far to fast' reader.  

regardless of the schools original location or even the present landscape offered...we are currently in israel.  dont know why, but we are.

that morning, the atrium is full of students and everyone seems loud and lively as they fill the air with stories of wanton mirth.  im there hanging out with all the usual suspects at regent college but i kinda look a little different than everyone else... apparently i just woke up because with my messed up bed head, i was taking it easy in my tighty whiteys.  two things to note:

1) hanging around in your underwear is not a universal standard for this dream, so i am the only one doing it.  but apparently its normal behavior on my part.

2) i DO NOT where tighty whiteys in real life.

as im eating, brandon curling looks to me and asks, "david and i are going to try out, are you coming?"

i respond with, "whoa, wait, you and david sutton came to visit!?"

i met brandon curling was the first friend i had in middle school that came over to spend the night.  and i met david in high school.  i went to the same school for middle and high school so we all hung out HARD.

this immediately jumps us to me giving them a tour of my 2 story room/apartment which i may or may not have been sharing with another student.  oh, all the students lived on campus.  i show them my bedroom which seemed very long with a short ceiling.  the wall was painted like my old wall back in raleigh but this time...it was a lot shittier.  but they still loved it.  (there sees to be a crowd here but i can only remember showing david and brandon)

well thats done with because now we are all dressed and walking to the gym for try-outs.  im not exactly sure what for though.

the gym is packed and i immediately lose david and brandon.  but good news, i see wes richardson.  i met wes richardson in a parking lot.  (i feel i should explain the great and not creepy story behind this...but im letting the readers imagination take over this one)  he starts running off to get to the try outs that he so eagerly wanted to make.  he runs into a straight line so he ends up running through a group of guys who i remember from my elementary school (why are they there?).  ill note the way he was running because only in retrospect does the running seem "abnormal".  his arms were lifted above his head and hands reaching the sky.  his bent-at-the-knees legs seemed to only rotate around his hip.  holy crap google images are UNBELIEVABLE: here is wes running.

basketballs.  we are trying out for basketball....or at least wes is (and i followed him).  the potential team was sitting in a semi circle around the coach.  as we approach, the coach delivers a mean chest pass to an unsuspecting player.  needless to say, the ball hits the kid in the face and he is unable to catch it.  instead of an apology, the coach quickly yells, "NAME?! what is your NAME!?"

"uh uh uh name that i cant remember", says the player

coach: "well, name that i cant remember, YOURE CUT!! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

the poor kid gathers his stuff and runs off faster than we can sit down.  right when i sit down, the coach says: "whos next?"

well, this next part is unusual to the graham b style but evidently i am a badass in my dreams because without a beat i yell back: "DONT YOU SAY MY FUCKING NAME!!!!" as i point FURIOUSLY at the coach. 

the coach and i have an awkward stare down but he breaks the silence by asking if i was going to be able to run with that helmet.  

helmet?

i look to my right and i quickly realize i was holding a race car helmet and i had a full leather body suit.  i then figured that i was meant to try out for the regent race team with david and brandon.  BUT THAT JUST DOESNT MATTER ANYMORE because i now have this asshole coach that i have what it takes! (to play basketball in a full race suit)

i respond to the helmet question with, "I FALL DOWN A LOT!"

in my dream, that was so badass that the rest of the team OOOed ad AHHHed but thinking about it now......maaaaaaybe not the best "come back"

but the coach was impressed and let me stay.  the man beside me (i say 'man' because he was in is forties) asks me how i did that and then i go on a rant about "power struggle" and upper hand" and "confident intimidation" that probably made no sense what so ever.

the coach yells out for wes and i to participate in a little one on one foot race.  

length:  two basketball courts wide and back.  (trick is: there were games being played on these courts)

prize: undetermined but probably something totally sweet (both in taste and street cred)

READYSETGO!

now usually in a dream, the persons abilities are amped up to "dream-like" status that are usually superhuman.  however, not in my fat filled dreams because this foot race was by far the most pathetic show of running.  im even hesitant to call it 'running'.  it was more like continuously falling forward and at the last second, catching yourself from falling by putting your foot forward.

my shoes seemed like they were covered in baby powder because the amount of slipping and running in place was absurd.  but luckily for me...this WAS a universal standard because wes was doing just as poorly.  in the middle of this shit show, i look to my left and see rick, the regent college maintenance man, racing us on the other side of the court AND HE IS KICKING OUR ASSES!  his stride is flawless (not for a human but for some freak running robot)

but theres a chance for second!  and i am determined to beat wes.  THAT SON OF A BITCH!  as i get a second wind at the end, i make a move to pass him with "lightening" speed.  courteous wes had the time to say, "wow, that was a good move" while i was passing him.  

my leather suit is full of sweat and right before i cross the finish line, i wake up.

i know its unofficial but i feel that i was victorious.  SO to celebrate, i get out of bed...get on facebook and write, "YOU LOST SUCKER!" on his wes' wall.