The random thoughts of a man constantly staving off hypothermia and wolves.
05 February 2009
I have three recurring dreams. I've experienced one or more of these dreams at least once a week over the past five years or so.
The first is your typical "Hey, I'm back where I served my mission" dream all returned missionaries have. Had this one a couple night ago... I was just visiting Mada, not a missionary (I am very rarely wearing the white shirt and tie), and generally having a good time catching up with members I know over there. A thought came to me, "How did I get here? I don't remember the 30 hours of travel from Idaho," and somehow the answer was supplied: "You slept the entire plane ride over, don't worry about it." That satisfied my dreaming consciousness, and good times continued. I'm always really fluent in Malagasy in these dreams, but I think that's because my brain is generating all the words and phrases used, and it can't generate what it doesn't already know. I wonder how well I'd really do if I went over there today.
The second is one where I can breathe underwater. Usually it starts out where I'm in a pool or a lake or whatever and at a pretty good depth. For whatever reason, I try to breathe a little and it works. I have to keep my breathing slow and steady, or else I choke on the water, but I can stay underwater indefinitely. It's pretty fun.
The third is one I experienced again last night. You know how a lot of people have dreams where they can fly? My version of that is where I can dunk a basketball. And I'm not just slipping the ball over the rim, either; I'm skying like Dwight Howard's Superman dunk on steroids.
So yeah, that's me, except about 18 feet in the air. Last night the scenario was that a friend and I had shown up at a weekly pickup game at some church (I think only Mormons would ever have that dream). They already had 10 guys ready to play, so we sat out at first and waited to sub in. The team I was on went down 10-2 early, and I was chomping at the bit to get in. After what seemed like way too long, one of my teammates finally came out and I hopped in. I almost immediately took a couple jumpers and missed badly, so I decided to start taking it to the hoop.
The funny thing is that it's hard to control this extreme jumping. The gravity seems a bit lower than normal, so it's not like I fall quickly, but angling my body from six feet above the hoop down to the exact area where I can get the ball through the rim is tough. Adding to the difficulty is the fact that the guy guarding me can sky as high as I can. Maneuvering around him while aiming for the orange rim is tricky.
And it's not like I'm throwing it down with authority, either. Since I have zero experience dunking in real life, I'm not quite sure how to hold the ball correctly, so most of the time it's kind of bumbling around in my hands while I get it through the basket. The lower gravity also means I'm falling slower, so the lesser force behind the action might have something to do with it, too.
The weirdest thing is that I don't even get that much satisfaction from dunking. It's just a way for me to score... it's not as though I'm excited that I finally did it, like I'd normally be.
Thanks for joining me in today's episode of "A Look Into Brandon's Psyche." Join us again next time as Brandon tackles his dislike for corn as anything but a side dish.
I'm a graduate from BYU-Idaho with a degree in Communications with a print journalism emphasis. I currently work as a test engineer for a software company. I've been married for seven years and have three kids.