I had an odd dream.
I was back in high school and the entire school had been assembled in the auditorium for an important announcement. The principal took the stage and announced that it was his great honor to announce that a student from our school had been chosen to participate in the Olympics for the USA swim team.
Then he announced that I was that person.
Everyone applauded as praise and adulation was poured over me.
I told the principal how proud and honored I felt, although it seemed a little strange considering I wasn’t even on the high school swim team and I’m a terrible swimmer. In fact, what I do in the water could be more closely described as a labored attempt to avoid drowning than as actual swimming.
The principal assured me that it was I who had been chosen.
I told him that almost anybody would be a better choice than me. Literally almost anybody in the country would be a better choice than me. I would likely need to be rescued before I reached the other end of the pool.
He told me it was great honor for the community and my being on the Olympic swim team would generate a butt-load of money for the school, enough money to allow the school to install a swimming pool.
I questioned how it was we had swim team without a swimming pool.
He told me it wasn’t easy and I should just shut up about being a bad swimmer because the T-shirts with my face on them were already being printed.
As I made my way through the halls to my next class, fellow students stopped me to shake my hand congratulate me.
I thanked them but expressed to them how much they should temper their expectations because I was going to lose catastrophically.
Then the class president stopped me and gushed about how proud everyone was. I was starting to get annoyed because I suddenly realized I had to pee urgently and she just wouldn’t stop talking.
I sought out a restroom but they were all closed for maintenance.
I searched the entire school until I found myself in the basement where I stumbled upon a small café.
It seemed odd to me: a small café being in the school basement.
The waitress congratulated me for making USA swim team and offered a free cup of coffee.
I thanked her but declined the coffee since I already had to pee quite badly and because my performance would likely be a national embarrassment.
But the café had a restroom.
Unfortunately there was some random middle-aged fat guy standing in front of the urinals and he wouldn’t let me pass.
I told him it seemed creepy: a middle-aged fat guy hanging out in front of the urinals in the restroom of small café in the basement of a school. There’s probably laws against it.
There were threats made. Threats concerning who may or may not urinate on whom–it got tense.
Sadly, (maybe thankfully) I will never know how it turned out because I woke up.
The point of all this?
This dream dredged a memory from the deep recesses of my mind. A memory that will be the subject of my next post.
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