Last night I had another strange dream that I remembered. I was a member of Tony Soprano’s crew and we were at a meeting. There were 7 or 8 of us sitting around a table and the meeting started off with us all laughing as we watched a news report citing the death of former mob boss Corrado “Junior” Soprano, even though Junior was standing directly behind Tony, who was sitting at the head of the table, right at that moment.
Besides Junior and Tony, the only other member I recognized was Christopher Moltisanti. The meeting went on for a few minutes and I don’t remember anything we talked about. When it was over most of the group got up and walked out, with the exception of the guy sitting across from me at the end of the table. He challenged me to a card game, and when Moltisanti heard the challenge, he came over to join us.
Motisanti sat down across from me to the right of the unnamed guy. We were playing for pretty big stakes; it was a $5 buy in. “No Name” dealt, the game was Black Jack and for some reason, Moltisanti, sitting to his right, had the first bet. He went all in and we both called him, so this was going to be a short game. Moltisanti took a hit and busted. No name took a hit and stayed. I took a hit and also busted.
“No Name” collected the money and started to get up without showing us his hand. As we pressed him, he held onto his cards and refused to show them. We finally forced them out of his hands and took a look. He had also busted.
In a normal card game among normal friends this probably would have never happened in the first place. But if it had, there would have been some yelling, and maybe the other guys would have held a grudge for a day or two, before he was forgiven.
But this wasn’t a normal card game; this was a card game in the world of The Sopranos, so you know there was only one way this was going to end. That’s right, Chrissy and I beat the holy crap out of the guy, and then walked out of the room laughing about it, as we left “No Name” lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
I’m not sure if I woke up after that or not, but that’s it, that’s all I remember.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Friday, September 07, 2007
Back To School Nightmare
I know, it’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog. I moved all of my Red Sox/baseball stuff to here, and I’ve been spending all of my blogging time over there since. I never intended to abandon this one, I just haven’t seen or experienced much lately that has inspired me to blog about. Hopefully that will change as I had my first inspiration in a while this morning.
They say that your dreams have meaning and are usually related to something you may have been thinking about recently, or at least I think they do. Kyla started school yesterday and the thought of having to help her with all of that first grade homework has been terrifying to me. This may have been the inspiration for this dream.
Usually when I have the “back to school nightmare”, I’m back in high school and I’m not a teenager, I’m my adult self. This time, although I was my 40 year old adult self, I was not in high school, I found myself sitting at a desk in the front row of a 4th grade classroom. I’m not really sure why it was 4th grade, but that’s where I was.
The teacher told us to take out our math books and complete all the problems on a certain page. No problem I figured, it’s 4th grade math, and besides, all the answers are in the back of the book, how difficult can it be? Well, it becomes very difficult when you realize that you don’t have your book, and instead of just admitting this to the teacher, you decide to try to fake your way through it. It’s even more difficult when you’re attempting this feat while sitting in the front row, directly in front of the teacher’s desk.
Somehow I managed to do it. The teacher never moved from her desk and never questioned the fact that I did not have my math book in front of me as I spent a grueling 45 minutes sweating it out and scribbling on a piece of paper. As the end of class neared, everyone had to pass their work up to the front row. As I collected all the work in my row, I crumbled up my own “work” and put it in my pocket. I then went up to the teacher’s desk with the stack of everyone else’s work, handed it to her as the bell rang, and then booked it out of the classroom.
Phew! I had done it. I faked my way through the entire class, much like I had done throughout most of high school; which is probably the reason why I usually have these nightmares in the first place, as I’m subconsciously afraid that all of that faking is going to come back and bite me in the ass someday.
Anyway, I faked my way through the entire 45 minutes, fooled the teacher into believing I had done the work, and got out of there without her ever knowing the difference. It was almost too easy; maybe being a 40 year old 4th grader isn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.
They say that your dreams have meaning and are usually related to something you may have been thinking about recently, or at least I think they do. Kyla started school yesterday and the thought of having to help her with all of that first grade homework has been terrifying to me. This may have been the inspiration for this dream.
Usually when I have the “back to school nightmare”, I’m back in high school and I’m not a teenager, I’m my adult self. This time, although I was my 40 year old adult self, I was not in high school, I found myself sitting at a desk in the front row of a 4th grade classroom. I’m not really sure why it was 4th grade, but that’s where I was.
The teacher told us to take out our math books and complete all the problems on a certain page. No problem I figured, it’s 4th grade math, and besides, all the answers are in the back of the book, how difficult can it be? Well, it becomes very difficult when you realize that you don’t have your book, and instead of just admitting this to the teacher, you decide to try to fake your way through it. It’s even more difficult when you’re attempting this feat while sitting in the front row, directly in front of the teacher’s desk.
Somehow I managed to do it. The teacher never moved from her desk and never questioned the fact that I did not have my math book in front of me as I spent a grueling 45 minutes sweating it out and scribbling on a piece of paper. As the end of class neared, everyone had to pass their work up to the front row. As I collected all the work in my row, I crumbled up my own “work” and put it in my pocket. I then went up to the teacher’s desk with the stack of everyone else’s work, handed it to her as the bell rang, and then booked it out of the classroom.
Phew! I had done it. I faked my way through the entire class, much like I had done throughout most of high school; which is probably the reason why I usually have these nightmares in the first place, as I’m subconsciously afraid that all of that faking is going to come back and bite me in the ass someday.
Anyway, I faked my way through the entire 45 minutes, fooled the teacher into believing I had done the work, and got out of there without her ever knowing the difference. It was almost too easy; maybe being a 40 year old 4th grader isn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.
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