This is not exciting.
Last night's dream took place in my yard. I was trying out for a professional football team (I don't know why), and for one reason or another the try-outs were being held in my back yard. There were numerous high school and college-aged people there, all doing different drills, and all of them wearing jerseys of various colors representing NFL teams.
I was trying out for wide receiver, so I had to do a drill where I and another receiver would start in my back yard, run around opposite sides of my house, and catch a football that was launched by a machine over my roof and into my front yard. Whoever caught the ball got to stay in the drill while the unlucky or unskilled athlete had to go home and try again next year (or realize his talent level and never try again).
I succeeded so many times at this drill, beating player after player, that I cannot remember how many catches I made (it may have been due to a home-field advantage). Finally, on the very last drill that decided who would get to go to the pros (which was completely unfair because I had been doing this drill over and over while my opponent was still fresh), I had an excellent start. Unfortunately, the Baughman/McSherry yearly Easter egg hunt had commenced moments before my last drill began. My little cousin Ian (who actually is not so all that little any more) happened to be picking up a bright orange plastic egg from the grass right below where the football was going to land.
As the shadow of the football grew upon Ian's head, I made the quick decision to pull Ian out of the way as my opponent caught the ball, running through the spot that Ian was once crouching. I had failed to become a profession football player (thank goodness). I sat down on the grass, contemplating my failure.
After a long moment of pondering, I awoke.
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