Awake Now Please

I know it is impractical and silly to think of such things, but when you are asleep you cannot control your thoughts. For one who never dreams, this was very vivid, but sadly does not mean it will come true.

~

It was the final game of the season: two minutes on the clock, tied game and we were at their end, 42 yards from the baseline. We had been tied for the entire playing time, knocking the ball back and forth matching each other in every move, play and tackle. It was intense and to be sitting five rows up from the field watching the men sweat it out in such close proximity and it made one feel as if they were right alongside the very team that excited the fans.

I looked up. The entire crowd was red and billowing with the excitement of the lost ground, hoping to make a difference and score that last winning touchdown. I looked back down at the quarterback. He was scheming again but slyly so: whenever he was sure he would be able to make a trick play, he would link his hands behind his back and lean forward.

He surveyed the field, the enemy and then the crowd. He looked at me (or at least in my general direction), eyes locking and I stared back, showing my support and belief. He smiled, turned his head back and screamed “Hutttt” to the army in front of him.

I took a sidelong glance and saw him sitting next to me. He was watching the field but there was an excited glimmer in his eye that hoped for a win… the final victory…. the cup. I held back my emotion and turned to the field.

The clock started, seeming to fly by the final moments as it ripped through the remaining seconds. The throw was made and everything shifted into slow motion: men lurched into a knitted pack at the 38 yard line forming a seemingly impenetrable wall across the field. Everyone seemed to gasp and hold their breath at once.

One man disentangled himself from the pack and lurched quickly to the left.

The ball was spiralled his direction, cutting through the air like an arrow from a longbow with power and precision. It streaked towards him. Every noise stopped. Every head turned. Every breath was continued to be held. It drifted towards the man’s outstretched hands.

It settled with a soft thump into his fingers and his digits clamped in tight around it. He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Slipping through the astroturf as if he was a gazelle at home in the sahara. 30 yards. 25. 20. 15. He was closing in. 10. 5. 2.

The stands erupted. Like a volcano had burst under each side of the field, taking all of the fans up in its stentorian noise. The red masses waved and cheered, as they lurched to their feet, screaming from glee and victory. The runningback flew himself across the back line into the no-mans-land beyond the yellow onto the university’s coat of arms.

The field goal went in.

Twenty seconds left on the clock. How had time slipped by so slowly.

I glanced again to the one beside me. His face radiated excitement. It was almost in our grasp!

Fifteen seconds, they were lined up.

Ten seconds. They had won the game.

Five seconds. The enemy was beginning to sulk and show their dissatisfaction.

We won the cup. It was ours again.

Instead of glancing, I took a full turn and faced him, standing excitedly beside me. He did the same thing. Beauty radiated from his eyes and excitement washed over his face.

“We won.” I said, louder than usual due to the screaming flock of girls behind us.

“I know.” He replied lamely, his one slow quirk. He looked deep into my eyes and started to come towards me. He kissed me.

I laced my hands around the back of his neck and smirked into the kiss, finally winning a battle for myself and drop-kicking that last remaining bit of insecurity. He slid his hands around my back and the girls a row up from us started to sigh, aww and clap as we remained locked in each other’s arms.

I broke away, looked into his eyes and started to laugh. He put his hand on the side of my face and kissed my forehead. I’m pretty sure that I had rainbows coming from my fingertips. He took my hands and we started to shift towards the stairs on our left, me behind him, holding his back-stretched hands.

Score one for the Stamps, score one for my win.

Nothing could get in my way.

~

I love and hate dreams all at the same time… well…the ones I can remember at least.