Dreams

I've been known to make stories out of a few of my craziest dreams. Mostly the vivid I-feel-like-this-is-real dreams. Oh, and the dreams that I can actually remember that vividly when I wake up! Here is another one. Rather short. But some times I have to wonder, on what level of sleep-induced oblivion do my neurological impulses actually account for such notions as logical and realistic? At any rate, I give you a swimming dream involving my dear friend Brianna (who is by no means as illogical as the story portrays her).

The pool was huge, like nothing I’d ever seen before. Brianna picked up on what her team was all excited about way before any of the other teams or the judges even. Half the crowd surrounding us in the stands picked up on it at that point as she enthusiastically tried to explain to me the move her team was trying to make.

Water filled the entire pool complex. There were no lanes, flags, or diving boards. The bleachers, walkways, and slides all either were themselves or were supported by inflatable objects. The excitement spread like wild fire once Gardner-Webb scurried and scrambled to send their swimmer down the slide before the hosting team picked up on what was going on. Brianna explained in all sincerity—as if it were some common mishap they should have realized and capitalized on long before—that there was a rule the hosting team’s facilities can only be located a certain place within the state.

The crowd was more than a little obvious now about its suppressed loud whispers of intrigue and excitement as Gardner-Webb’s swimmer skipped taking her mark and shot down the inflatable slide quicker than a greased turnip on a hockey rink! As she reached the slightly upwardly curved end of the slide, the swimmer flew into the air with obvious signs that all poise and form where to be abandoned at that moment for the simple goal of hitting the water as soon as possible. That being the case, it was the most well executed belly-flop I had ever seen.

According to Brianna the rule was simple, once you catch an obvious oversight of the rules—like the hosting team’s facility being in the wrong part of the state—then if you get one of your team members into the water before the hosting team figures it out they are disqualified.

The judges were all in agreement. The hosting team was disqualified. Gardner-Webb won by a belly-flop!

WAPPY WEW WEAR!

The craziness of January has swept me off my feet. Quite literally. I feel that right now—this more-than-30-seconds-of-sitting-down-by-myself time—is my new years. Here in the sounds of silence, it has just now hit me that it's time to start afresh, begin anew, anticipate what is to come. I was too loopy during bed rest last week to realize there was a new beginning, but now I'm longing to take full advantage of it.

Years and months are good times to start anew. The beginning of the week is even a good place. But why not start on a Wednesday! The day of the week that is the hardest to spell. The day that falls right in the middle of the work week when you can't say you're starting a new week but you can't quite say you're finishing it either. The only day that starts with a "W"—shoot, there aren't even any months that start with "W"! Speaking of "W"...The day (right nowish really) that "W" is giving a presidential speech. The day after House and American Idol.

Yes, today is my New Years celebration. So here's to Wednesdays! May they ever be wild, wondrous, witty, whimsical, warm, welcoming and whistle-worthy!