The Dream

A long-lasting dream about playing basketball and hitting 3-pointer after 3-pointer. Maybe ten consecutive. I think the best I ever managed in real life was three in a city league game. The shots were in a two- or three-minute span of time and forced the other team to call a time out in frustration of my torching their defense. I loved it when the other team is yelling and pointing fingers at each other over whose responsibility it is to guard me. Though I can only think of two instances where that took place. I once told someone that it was four made shots, but upon further consideration and recollection, that may have been a lie. 

In the dream, I was moving freely and fluidly around the court. Now, I can't even remember a time when I moved like that.

In the dream, all my teammates and the opponents' faces are blurred. There's not a single face that I can identify after awakening. The dream is mostly dribble to a spot on the floor, gather (pick up the dribble and begin the act of shooting) and launch. And this time the shots are all going in. In most of my hoop dreams, nothing falls (goes in).

Why is it that in dreams, I'm always much younger than the fact of the moment? I'm always 20 or 30-something, running, jumping, shooting 3's ..... or doing whatever act it is that is being played out. I'm never 66, closing on 67. I'm always in my prime, though I can't testify that I ever had a prime. 

In the dream, defenders don't even pose a minor nuisance. It's like I'm Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Pete Maravich, Larry Bird and Steph Curry all rolled into one.

It's like I have infinite stamina and flawless technique and I've never known a shooting slump. And historically speaking, that's far from being true.

In reality, I think it's a sin how the 3-point attempt has taken over basketball. (That and disfigured spines on vinyl record covers are my main pet peeves these days.) In the dream, I'm chucking them up like I'm getting paid by the attempt.