Piece of a Dream

This is an atypical blog. I didn't post it thinking people would find it interesting or even really read it all if they started. It was an interesting dream, and I thought I'd just get it down so I could look back on it for motivation or something.

I was at an arcade. I walked up to a machine, thinking I knew what game it was and was one I wanted to play. I put a dollar in, assuming that bought a small number of plays, 2-4 or something. Instead, when my dream switched in a first person POV I was staring at a different game. The credit/plays system worked a bit like slots, and only cost a small fraction of that dollar per turn. Either 1 cent or 10 cents, way more than 4 turns.

The game was not a video game, but one of those very simple games that I really can't describe even while awake. I just don't think there's a name for them, but they're similar to a crane game, in that it's kind of just a money stealer.

What I saw was the rectangular/square game box behind the display. It was green and pretty bare. There were only two pieces to the game. A piece on the bottom that moved back and forth, it ran all the way from the bottom left corner to somewhere a little past mid-way of the display. It oscillated at a constant and steady rate as dictated and controlled by the game itself, not the player, yet that was the piece I would have some control over.

On the bottom right was a small hole that pierced through the wall/display of the game, though it may have been a basketball hoop type piece actually. The piece that slid back and forth would load a disc, coin, ball, something, and while moving back and forth, the player would press a single button that would shoot the ball out and try and get it into the hoop/hole. Logically, if the moving piece wasn't angled at all towards the hole, this would be an impossible game. But, this was a dream which allowed for the ball, even though always aimed straight up, to always move a bit in some direction.

I played maybe two or three times. Losing, just missing. Trying to time the moving piece so right as it reached the point in the middle of the display and changed direction, I would hit the button, sending the ball towards the hoop/hole due to some kind of what I'm sure is a flawed idea I have on the physics of momentum.

On probably the 4th shot, I was able to get the ball in the hoop and win 40 tickets, which was apparently the max, and I have to assume the only amount of tickets one could win in this game. I still had some weird, arbitrary number of credits left on the game, something like 67 cents, all I know was it was still in the 60s.

As I watched as my tickets came out, quite sporadically so that I thought the game was ripping me off, two black kids were standing near me. Both would definitely be under 10 I'm guessing, the boy older, probably 9 or something, the girl, 7, if I had to just make a random guess, though maybe they could both be a few years older. The boy really didn't do much. I think he was just eating an ice cream cone and never said anything at all. The girl, I remember had two braided, short pigtails with one of those little pink clasp things in each. Also, at some point prior to this, I had put on a white MSU hat, which was a bit weird, I literally haven't worn a ballcap in years, but the one I was wearing in my dream is the last one I have worn in real life. The girl however grabbed for a few of the tickets, maybe the first or second wave of ten, again, the machine was giving out tickets quite oddly, and I thought it froze or was cheating me. I stopped the girl from taking my tickets, by telling her not to, and she did stop.

Once I gathered the tickets though, she told me she needed some tickets for some prize she wanted. I may have given her 10 tickets at this point, or I may have given her none. I don't fully recall. And even the order of the next two events I don't fully remember. However, I think the next thing that happened was the little girl looked at me and told me something along the lines of, "I get the feeling that good luck is going to come to you soon," or maybe, "I think you're going to have some lucky things (maybe she said fortunate) happen to you soon." I don't think I responded. She continued by asking, "Are you famous? Are you an actor or something?" To which I did respond, "No, I'm not."

She did say something else after that, though I'm not sure I'm going to get it right. I thought she said something like, "Oh, well you're very good looking," and mentioned my hat in some way, which is why I remember wearing it in my dream, and then I got the feeling she hinted at or that the way she had told me about good fortune/luck and asking if I were famous meant those two were be connected.

Regardless, I went back to the game, since I still had some plays left, and on the very next try, won again, another 40 tickets. After collecting the tickets and still having 50 or 60 some cents on the game, I realized I didn't really need any tickets and gave them all to the little girl and then simply left.

I woke up thinking about this dream as one of those "Aha" moments that people who become successful will cite as the reason or a sign that they pursued something improbable yet just knew or had a feeling they'd succeed. But then, knowing how much I like to use sarcasm and irony all the time, I wondered if my own dreams were filled with irony to play with me. Mocking me because of the farfetchedness of my real-life dreams.

This made me wonder about my own way of experiencing dreams. Typically, when I dream, the dream moves constantly from a first-person POV, me literally seeing through the eyes of a person, and a third-person POV, me just kind of hovering and watching outside the space of the dream, not in it, but watching it.

I came to the conclusion that If I had experienced that dream in first person, actually seeing and experiencing all those things that happened, then maybe it was really trying to give an honest meaning. But If I were pulled back, watching the girl say these things to me as if it were some kind of a movie or TV show, maybe I was supposed to pick up on the irony and ridiculousness of the situation, being able to see the bigger picture.

I'm not going to put how I remember experiencing that part of the dream, whether it was in 1st or 3rd person, and honestly, I'm not sure if there weren't points in that dream where I didn't switch back and forth between the two.

I also remember two other dreams that night though. In another dream I was driving, got stuck in the wrong lane and ended up having to take an exit back onto the highway. Once on the highway I realized how low the gas was in the car and started to worry. I don't think that portion of the dream concluded itself, though I do know I took an exit at a rest area, before either the dream changed, I woke up, or just forgot what happened.

In the other dream I remember I was going to party at somebody's house. The weather was nice, so as I approached I could see all the people outside, grilling and eating, talking, all that. It felt like it was some sort of homecoming/reunion type dream, and even though it was in East Lansing, the majority of the people there were all people from Illinois, though I recognized a couple people from MSU. I really remember two people in particular, but I won't reveal who they were in order to keep their dream identities anonymous, those weird dream party stalkers.

Sound Advice

It's time for a little sound advice. So this advice is a bit late. Better late than never, right?

This advice is going out to you, Eldrick Tont Woods. Tont? Really? Is that a typo on Wikipedia? Is it maybe supposed to be Tont'o'? What the hell is Tont? Whatever, back to the advice.

Tiger Woods hasn't won a single golf tournament since Elin found out that Tiger was using his wedge in a bunch of other sluts' sand traps.

Maybe when Elin put down the clothing iron and picked up the 5-iron she knocked some of the golf skill out of Tiger's body. Who knows?

But after the incident every sports analyst out there was trying to give Tiger advice on how to handle the situation. Hmm, no offense Stu Scott, but you're a sports reporter, not a personal counselor. Unless that lazy eye can see into other dimensions, I don't think Tiger wants to hear what you have to say.

I mean, Chris Berman is an unbearable sports analyst, not a psychiatrist. The only advice I'd take from that fat fuck is where to get a good slab of ribs. Besides, everybody gave the same advice anyway. It was either, he should take some time off to collect himself and work everything out and then come back, head right back out to there and let golf take his mind off the whole thing for awhile, or frame John Daly for murder so the public eye would be on him and off Tiger. Okay, so nobody suggest the last one, but who wouldn't believe John Daly finally got so drunk he killed someone?

Regardless, nobody's advice has worked so far, since Tiger still isn't winning. So maybe it's time to try something completely different.

Here it is, Tiger. Are you ready?

A Turn.

You're probably not familiar with the term "turn," so let me explain it to you Tiger. In professional wrestling, when a wrestler changes from being a good guy to a bad guy or vice-versa, it's called a turn.

In your case, you'd be changing from a face (the good guy), to a heel (the bad guy). Look, I know it's a bit of a stretch to suggest that you were a good guy before since about 30-40% of the people that watched golf hated your guts, which is actually just 30-40 people total, but I'm talking extreme heel here.

You've always kind of been a dick anyway on the course. Now just take it up another notch.

When you tee off on the first hole, give the audience a little monologue first. Here's an example. "Last week I was at Augusta, and I thought man this has got to be the worst place on Earth. And then, I came here to Pebble Peach." You know, general insults to the course, the city, whatever.

That's a good start and a good way to get the crowd against you. But there still needs to be more. Instead of complaining and yelling at somebody who took a picture during your backswing or is making too much noise, point to some old woman who walked all the way from Ernie Els' press conference to see you putt on the 14th green and get her kicked out for being too old, ugly and distracting. Either an old lady or a kid on his dad's shoulders. Treating a kid or an old woman with disrespect is a surefire winner in getting the crowd to hate you.

Finally, getting a caddy in on this action will make things even better. There are two routes you could go here. You can get some kind of foreign guy to be your caddy. Maybe a Quran toting Muslim, or like anybody that is anti-American sentiment, or a Chinese guy that is rich because he lives in a good economy, or Mel Gibson or something. People will hate all three of those. The other option is to get a caddy that the crowd will love. Midgets are popular. Justin Bieber possibly. Maybe even a woman (trust me, this gets good). Whoever it is, just make sure you beat him or her mercilessly when you miss a putt or slice one into the rough. Blame it all on the caddy. People will loathe you even more. On second thought, I wouldn't go with the Justin Bieber as a caddy. If you beat the shit out of him, I think people will start to like you.

Would there be a rule against hitting Nick Faldo with a chair as he tries to chip for birdie? Whatever, those three things should probably be enough. But don't forget to consistently make rude gestures to the crowd. The middle finger, the up yours sign, grab some guy's daughter and pantomime butt-fucking her...you know, the works.

If you think this might be too much, trust me, I don't think the activity of golf will suffer because it got a little more bearable to watch.

Seriously, the only thing more boring to watch than golf is the Wheel of Fortune. How about you show me the puzzle so I can play along at home. Instead, I have to watch the wheel spin as Jill lands on a Lose A Turn space. Do you know how old Vanna White is? She's 53. I feel bad for her and whatever anti-aging experiments they keep doing on her.

Golf's most memorable moments of emotion and celebration are Tiger Woods fist pump and Phil Mickelson's gay little jumping jack. God only knows what Jon Daly will do when he wins a major. Unfortunately, even if he does, he probably won't be sober enough to know it.

So there's my advice. Go complete heel. Even though the majority of the crowd will hate you, the heel still always amasses some fans for playing the tougher role.

I'm sure you're wondering, how does this help you win again at golf? I don't know, maybe it doesn't. But then again, maybe knowing for sure that the crowd hates you instead of wondering if they think you're some kind of disgusting pig will take all that pressure off and just let you play golf.

Hey nothing else has worked yet.

The New Fall

My favorite season has always been Fall. Is it because of Halloween? The changing leaves? The cooler weather? It's a question I don't know how to answer.

I've met a lot of other people who's favorite season is Fall too, which, while a good season, seems like the second least likely to be picked, only ahead of Winter.

It seems like when Fall and Spring are so similar to each other in weather, the common choice should be Spring for the weather warming and the environment coming back to life. I mean, that's what Spring is known for; being the season of rebirth and new life.

That's hard to beat. Until I realized that Fall is the Spring for the youth. Spring gets all the accolades for being the most beautiful season. When life begins again, things grow and bloom and blossom, and the weather warms up, whereas in Fall, the weather gets colder, gloomier, darker, and life fades away and dies.

But in way, for teenagers and young adults, Fall is the season of rebirth. The time of new-agains and old reappearances.

Fall ushers in the new school year, new classes, new teachers, new schedules, new friends, and reacquainting with older ones that were perhaps forgotten. With Fall comes new sports and activities to join, new goals, the chance to every year reinvent oneself and try something new.

New life always starts in the Fall every year. The Fall brings a fresh new start to life again.

But, as I stare down the end of my young life and head towards my adult life, I realize that Fall won't bring the new for me anymore. There's no more looking ahead to a season when things refresh and start over, there's no longer a specific time to find new opportunities, and you're just as likely to meet new people in the middle of Winter as you are in the Fall.

I worry that for me, Fall will just become Spring in reverse. Going from pretty to ugly, instead of ugly to pretty.

Or should I be worried that no matter what season comes along once I'm older, it won't bring the same perks the Fall once brought me? When the new no longer occurs, what is left but all same ol' same ol'?

Either way, here's to hoping the beauty and newness that Fall brings will forever remain with me.