Weird dreams.

I had two sports related dreams last night.

In the fist dream, I heard a lot of cheering in my apartment. So I walked up to the TV, to turn it on, and it was showing the Nets/Jazz game. The Nets players were going WILD. Then they showed the score, and I saw 94-29. I remember screaming at my wife that the Jazz could only muster 8 points a quarter. She told me to calm down, but I wouldn't hear of it. I got so mad I turned off the TV. I think this means that I'm upset with the way the Jazz are playing recently.

Then, you know how dreams suddenly stop and go to different places and you don't skip a beat, right? All of a sudden I was in Baltimore. I was standing next to Camden Yards. The sky was this greyish color, but where the sun was strong behind the clouds it was an eerie dirty yellow. There was a gothic style prison over a small hill with a large field between the prison and this dumpy old house. All this was on one side of an empty street with the stadium on the other side. In the far off distance behind the stadium I could see the shadowy outline of a city's skyscrapers.

I remember walking up to the house, going through the garage, and knocking on the door. It was Cal Ripken Jr's house, and I wanted him to sign my baseball. Trouble was, I didn't have a baseball. I had a baseball that was missing huge chunks of it, almost as though someone had taken a bite out of it.

Anyway, I knocked on the door and these kids answered. I asked if Cal Ripken Jr. was there. They said yes, and some guy with Cal's face came to the door. He was tall, fat, and had a mullet. (Cal's bald, for those who don't know.) He came out, and we all played catch. I kept wanting to ask him to sign my ball, but I was too afraid. His son started telling me about how he was going to go to college in Calgary, because they have a lot of schools there. Then Cal asked us to go to the baseball game with him. Instead of responding, I asked 'Cal, will you sign my--' and I woke up.

I have no idea what this one meant. Sometimes a baseball is just a baseball, eh Freud?

Very odd night, all together.