I was in Tucson, Arizona, which if you will remember was where I just spent a week on vacation. Of course you remember, you remember every word I've ever written. Silly me. Anyway, I was in some theater somewhere. Then all of a sudden I was in some woman's office, I guess you could say she looked something like this
but not much. Just a general idea. Anyway she was telling me how I was going to get to play baseball for the Arizona Wildcats. I can't play baseball, I'm pretty sure the last time I tried I got hit right in the forehead with the ball in my neighbor's yard. It was painful. Scarred me mentally. Moving on. So I got to play for this professional baseball team and it was practically the most exciting thing ever and apparently I was good enough. The blonde woman told me that I would have to live in the team's secret hideout, which conveniently enough was in the top of the theater we were in. Imagine that. The theater was something like this in layout.
The wall and two doors and staircase (the dotted line) was drawn by me. Good handwriting, huh? I thought so too. I went to go up into the secret hideout's entrance, which was somewhere in the big arched staircase between the two doors. By the way, the door by my handwritten "wall" had a second door behind it, which had a creek running through it. Don't ask me why, it was a dream. So I went to go to the secret hideout and all of a sudden this guard, who looked just like this except in a cop outfit, came over. He wanted to know what I was doing, but I obviously couldn't tell him I was moving in with my new team because then the secret hideout wouldn't be a secret anymore, and that would be bad. So I just left. I reappeared in my own house, back in lovely cold Iowa, just as the phone started ringing. The house phone, mind you, not the cell phone. This is an important fact. So I answered the phone. It was some crazy person with a really weird voice, I don't remember exactly what the voice was like, but it was weird. Crazay weird. This person wanted to know if I was at home, and since I was apparently alone at the time I obviously wasn't going to tell the truth. I told them I was at work. I immediately knew they wouldn't fall for such a silly ploy because my car was in the driveway (My dream-self didn't at the time realize I was on the home phone, so I obviously was home). The person then started doing the crazy insane person laughter and hung up on me. Weird. But it was all okay because just then my dad appeared in the house. As he appeared two people, who happened to be from my baseball team, walked in from the garage carrying some random chair. My dad tried to speak to them but they were from spain and only spoke spanish, so it was up to me to converse with them. I of course did in my flawless dream spanish but right then I was up in the fancy penthouse thing that we all lived in. There was a party going on and I had invited some of my friends, Kro, Embroz, and Oliver Jorge. We were mingling with my rich friends and all of a sudden the cops broke in and deported all of my teammates. They were spanish from spain not mexico so they shouldn't have been deported at all. But I guess my friends (who spilled the beans about the secret hideout and where it was) and got themselves confused and said they were mexicans. The cops didn't care who they were as long as they were deporting someone, so they all got taken away.
Right then my alarm went off and I woke up. Remember how I said it was like those dreams where you are crying when you wake up (which I've never actually had, but my female family members have, must be a girl thing). Well when I was awake I was super sad. As if some of my best friends in the entire world had been rudely stolen from me, never to be seen again. It was also this really wistful, longing feeling. It makes no sense. I have never wanted to be a baseball player. Never. So why does this one illogical dream suddenly make me all sad when it ends? Who knows! But I do feel like maybe, just maybe, if my clock hadn't chosen right then to go off maybe I would have rescued them and we would have lived happily ever after. But no, they got deported and that was that. Gone forever.
If you (here I refer to "you" as if "you" actually exist, but nobody reads this so "you" don't exist) are a dream analyst, and you would like to comment and leave your phone number, that would be great. I will pay you. Tell me what it means.
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