Thursday, March 16, 2017

The Eagles had the ball in the red zone. In fact, the entire field consisted of just the red zone. It was their last chance, and they could win with a touchdown. There was a reception on first down for five yards or so. I was watching from the sidelines for some reason. The crowd, just a few people, were gathered around the perimeter like it was a kids’ soccer game. I watched with disgust as two straight incompletions made it fourth down. Why hadn’t we run at least once? I felt like I’d seen this before, or that the outcome was preordained. I watched with dread and disgust as the last play unfolded. The quarterback stepped tentatively between the pass rush and threw the ball down the middle. It landed pitifully, nowhere near a receiver. I noticed that the quarterback was Matthew McConaughey.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

I was riding in a car with three other people, not clear who they were. I was wearing a suit and tie for some reason. I felt self-conscious, being the only one dressed up. We drove into San Diego. I realized we’d just recently driven into LA. The highway became a dirt road, like a dirt path through a massive construction project. “It’s always so weird coming into these southern Californian cities,” I remarked. “Always so dreary.” We passed the football stadium and realized that it being Sunday, the team was playing at that exact time. In the dream they were the Rangers.

I had just entered high school. It was a good school, well-regarded, but authoritarian. We all had to get used to being yelled at by teachers, their strict demands. There was a bass player in the school who was a prodigy. Kids gathered in the hallway to watch him through the window of a band rehearsal room. He was warming up with ridiculous thumb-popping riffs. Then he and a band played some heavy metal tune. It segued into a Michael Jackson song.