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.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
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.
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