Field Goals Gone Wrong

Date Dreamed: 2014-01-04

Dream

I’m playing football in junior high and we're attempting to kick a field goal. I’m on the line where I belong (because I’m way too awkward to touch the ball), and Brett is our kicker. There's the brief flurry of action after the snap as the other team tries to block the kick, but after the ball is away we all stop and watch it. The attempt is long but it has the distance. It begins to veer left, and my wishful telekinesis is only good enough to drive it into the upright. The ball then preposterously starts to retrace its trajectory back towards us. Everyone stands dumbfounded as the ball flies all the way back and hits Brett in the leg. He reacts like it might have injured him, but I laugh anyway. Both teams just stand in mute amazement for a bit until I realize something and say “Has the whistle blown yet?”. We all realize that the ball is still in play and there’s a scrabble to recover it from near the sidelines, where it ricocheted to off of Brett’s shin. Somebody from the other team is able to scoop it up but is instantly tackled out of bounds by Khris.  

Context Explanations

Brett was our kicker in junior high since he was a soccer player and joined the team just to be the kicker. He was pretty good even if we never really attempted field goals. Khris was one of second string receivers, aka a solid special teams player.

Plot Holes

The physics of the ball’s return trajectory is just not really possible. Either there were no friction losses with the air, the ball kept all its energy in the impact, and bounced back at the same angle that it hit the upright; or the upright imparted enough energy into the ball the make up for any losses. When I can actually remember thinking “this doesn’t seem likely” during the dream, the observed actions are no doubt wildly impossible.

Erection?

Implausibly Yes

Analysis

All the wacky football antics are merely a backdrop for the core idea of the dream. Violence is done on something (booting a ball), and then that something returns to do violence back (energetically impacting a leg). I must be afraid that some action is going to come back and harm me. I can’t think of anything specific (maybe quitting my job, or spending time not writing or drawing), but the fact the I laughed at Brett means I don’t think anyone is going to have any sympathy for me.

Auguries

11 players on two teams makes 22. 22 is my lucky number. I have good fortunes ahead.