I would like to take use today’s post to discuss a reoccurring nightmare I have.

This dream usually haunts me on the last day or two before a meet, when I’m an emotional mess (more on that in later posts).

I’m sitting down to a fine meal, eating an appetizer, then a very filling, multi-plate dinner. The food itself is indistinct, so that I’m only aware of how delicious- and heavy- it is. Then the dessert comes out, and I dig into that, too.

I’ll often be with friends or family, so that I’m joking with them as we pass around platters laden with food. We’re all in a great mood, and I can see everyone’s faces, golden and laughing in the dim candlelight.

Then a hand clamps down on my shoulder, and everyone disappears. I turn around to see that my cross country coach is standing behind me. He’s screaming at me, dismayed at seeing me at the table.

“Tim, what are you doing?! You have a race in 10 minutes!”

I jump up from the table and sprint through some sort of tunnel or hallway. I’m stripping as I go, thinking about how I haven’t warmed up or stretched, and how slowly I’m going to run. Then I reach a starting line somewhere (it’s always outdoors, on top of a grassy hill), and I see that the starter’s pistol is already pointed at the sky, ready to fire. I crouch down, preparing my body for the blast of the gun, standing in my boxers and Sketchers shoes and thinking about the opportunity that I wasted.

That’s usually when I wake up. It always seems silly that I was so terrified in my last few moments before waking. But then, when I’m laughing about it later on with my teammates, I think they understand my fear. I think that my dream is just another symptom of the neurosis that we share.