Lovebitesandeveryfing
Well-Known Member
Well it's a funny thing. I thought of starting this thread a few years back. Although more general, in Off Topic. If I've hesitated, I thought it might get too personal.
Several years ago, I had the following dream. I was in the stadium (not recognisably the Etihad, not Maine Road either), City were playing against I don't know who. I was on the lowest level, quite close to the front. About where first level of South Stand would be. Suddenly, someone was injured and (I think) had to be stretchered off. Anyway, they just disappeared the way people do in dreams.
To my absolute horror, an assistant coach came straight over to me and told me to get on to the pitch!! They wouldn't take no for an answer. Now I played football at school but by any standard my level was risible (until I discovered the game on tarmac, on a smaller pitch and with a Frido ball — I actually got quite decent at that). But no, I had to go on. Magically, I was suddenly wearing the kit. There were only about five minutes to play, thank God, and I was playing at the back. I remember distinctly praying that no-one would give me the ball. I tried to run around, look busy, mark anyone who seemed to need marking, without actually touching the ball. The stadium, of course, was full, and baying as per normal.
Fuck me but somebody passed the ball to me. Perhaps because I was looking comfortable enough to deal with it. I took a touch on it but you know how you appear to be wading through treacle in dreams when you've got to do something fast? The touch was poorish and I knew I didn't really have it under control. I appeared to have plenty of time, but before I knew it, an opposition player was bearing down on me at horrible speed. I hit the ball out towards the wing, where one of ours seemed to be free. But I knew as soon as I hit it that I'd underhit it. Another opposition forward was going to intercept it and it was probably going to lead to a chance.
I'd fucked up the one thing I'd been required to do for City on the pitch!
I woke up, and was out of my misery.
Yes, I have a pretty good memory of dreams. And (too) many of them are anxiety dreams, in one form or another. One of the worst, years ago, involved sitting in a big hall with a crowd of other people, and SS officers were taking people out one by one and shooting them outside. In that one, I thought, “Why am I sitting here waiting to be slaughtered like a sheep? I don't have to take this. Others can if they 're that passive, but I don't have to.” And I got up and just walked off. That was a good resolution to an anxiety dream. The City one (which is the only one I've had about City, I think) didn't end so well… ;-)
Several years ago, I had the following dream. I was in the stadium (not recognisably the Etihad, not Maine Road either), City were playing against I don't know who. I was on the lowest level, quite close to the front. About where first level of South Stand would be. Suddenly, someone was injured and (I think) had to be stretchered off. Anyway, they just disappeared the way people do in dreams.
To my absolute horror, an assistant coach came straight over to me and told me to get on to the pitch!! They wouldn't take no for an answer. Now I played football at school but by any standard my level was risible (until I discovered the game on tarmac, on a smaller pitch and with a Frido ball — I actually got quite decent at that). But no, I had to go on. Magically, I was suddenly wearing the kit. There were only about five minutes to play, thank God, and I was playing at the back. I remember distinctly praying that no-one would give me the ball. I tried to run around, look busy, mark anyone who seemed to need marking, without actually touching the ball. The stadium, of course, was full, and baying as per normal.
Fuck me but somebody passed the ball to me. Perhaps because I was looking comfortable enough to deal with it. I took a touch on it but you know how you appear to be wading through treacle in dreams when you've got to do something fast? The touch was poorish and I knew I didn't really have it under control. I appeared to have plenty of time, but before I knew it, an opposition player was bearing down on me at horrible speed. I hit the ball out towards the wing, where one of ours seemed to be free. But I knew as soon as I hit it that I'd underhit it. Another opposition forward was going to intercept it and it was probably going to lead to a chance.
I'd fucked up the one thing I'd been required to do for City on the pitch!
I woke up, and was out of my misery.
Yes, I have a pretty good memory of dreams. And (too) many of them are anxiety dreams, in one form or another. One of the worst, years ago, involved sitting in a big hall with a crowd of other people, and SS officers were taking people out one by one and shooting them outside. In that one, I thought, “Why am I sitting here waiting to be slaughtered like a sheep? I don't have to take this. Others can if they 're that passive, but I don't have to.” And I got up and just walked off. That was a good resolution to an anxiety dream. The City one (which is the only one I've had about City, I think) didn't end so well… ;-)