Quote of the Day: “The more you read and observe about this Politics thing, you got to admit that each party is worse than the other. The one that’s out always looks the best.”
- Will Rogers
(of course I had to pull out a pic of Winnie Cooper for this one just like every man my age who grew up watching The Wonder Years.)
It’s Way-Back Wednesday, folks, and you know what that means…
I have a very vivid memory of a very vivid dream I had in junior high school.
It was during Christmas time and in gym class, we were
forced allowed to learn square dancing instead of anything athletic and/or not gay. It was Oklahoma, folks.
It was a time where you hoped to be paired with a pretty girl and avoid the Yedi. Sometimes it was gold, sometimes it was coal but it was always a thrill for a young boy. I think this tripped my first rumblings of puberty and caused my mind to go haywire a bit because the dream I had… now don’t go all jackass on me, not those kind of dreams… let me explain.
Along with the forced close proximity to the opposite sex during square-dancing, I was also affected by the threat of nuclear war like all children of the 80s. We did the drills, although I don’t know how much a chincy little desk is going to protect me from a mushroom cloud and a few million degrees worth of radiation but I digress.
These factors combined one night to create the dream I was talking about. It was like the set of a bad movie; a nuclear hellscape and I seemed to be the only survivor. It was rich in detail and I actually believed I was there.
Roaming around aimlessly, I came across a girl who was in my gym class.
She was cute but not one of the ones I fixated on. I just knew who she was and in the square-dance partner straw pull, she was at the 75% mark. There were the grade school supermodels that only the very luckiest among us ever got to be paired with. Those were the 90th percentile girls that someone of my ilk was never allowed to even dream about.
Then, of course, there were those tortured souls that you desperately wanted to avoid at all costs. The Peppermint Patties of the population, if you will.
This girl was better than average but had not graduated to the stratospheric levels of preteen supermodel existence.
In my dream, we found each other and call it desperation, call it fear, call it fate but in that very realistic scenario I found myself in, she was literally the last woman on earth and I latched onto her like a floating seat cushion in the middle of the ocean.
Whatever passed for love at that point in my very young life, I had it for this girl. We held hands as we roamed the desolation and I had a bond with her that transcended anything I had experienced up to that point in my life.
Suddenly, I awoke.
That day, I was nervous all morning waiting for gym class. When I got there, I saw her standing there.
Mind you, I had never even TALKED to this girl in real life. I had recognized her in my dream but in real life, I only knew her as a girl in my gym class. I didn’t have the hots for her at all but now, standing there looking at her, I had the strangest experience.
I read a lot of books about time travel and science fiction. One reoccurring storyline, especially in time travel, is traveling back in time to encounter your spouse before he or she met you. If the character actually talks to them, they are struck by having the love of their life interact with them as a perfect stranger which is what he is to her. But to him, he knows all the years, all the memories, all the love they share.
That’s the feeling I had with this girl. I still felt that connection to her from the dream but of course, she had no idea who I was, why I was staring at her, or if she should tell the PE teacher to keep that creepy kid with the brown hair away from her.
I never looked at that girl the same again. I would see her and I would instantly go back to that realistic dream “relationship” we had.
I also never had that dream ever again and left that year, never have spoken a single word to my “dream girl.”
Free Advice for Today: “Recycle old newspapers, bottles, and cans.”
- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.