Given that yesterday was the day that baseball began on this continent, it may come as no surprise to the reader that I dreamt of baseball last night. Sweet, sweet baseball. Honey-glazed baseball. Baseball, beer-battered and dipped in cocktail sauce. Baked-Alaska baseball, burning for me. Food metaphor. Baseball.
My subconscious, apart from being hungry, was aware of the outfield situation in Boston, at least in part*. The situation being that Grady Sizemore played his way into the opening day position most of us assumed would go to Jackie Bradley, Jr. While my conscious self produces little sympathy for JBJ, given that he still does baseball as the thing that earns him money, it seems my sub-conscious swung perhaps too far in the other direction last night, producing a scene closely resembling this here rapidly repeating GIF:
The slightly less crisp but emotion-laden version that occurred in my sleeping brain lasted about as long one run of the above GIF, yet felt like it lasted much longer. Perhaps three or four consecutive loops of the above GIF. The dream then morphed abruptly into me trying to tie someone else’s shoelaces at Fenway Park. Because my subconscious doesn’t bother with where games are played.
*It/I did not know that Shane Victorino got injured, and that JBJ was called up for yesterday’s game.
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