I had a dream the other night where I was late for my boxing debut.
The boxing arena seemed to be on the edge of a large shopping mall, and I had to ask directions to find it. I heard my name announced as the next fighter as I was entering the building, but I couldn’t seem to find my way down to what was presumably the ring (which I never came in sight of). It was less like Spinal Tap being lost backstage than the building being larger, older and more Gothic than I expected. At one point I saw some sort of rickety, extensible cherry picker/dunking stool/extending bridge contraption, which looked like it might deposit me over a wall where I needed to go, but looked too dangerous to try. Also, I noticed I wasn’t wearing shoes, which I was pretty sure was a breach of boxing rules.
I woke up before I ever got to the ring.
Tags: dreams, self-indulgent crap
Damn. You coulda been a contender.