Oh my god you guys. I've been dreaming so much lately, but last night I had a real doozy. Why do people dream? Is it brought on by stress? Is it brought on by excessive amounts of liquor?? Who knows? But maybe, just maybe, dreams mean something. Maybe, my dream is trying to send me a message? Try to decipher my dream and tell me what you think it means.
It's raining, I am in the desert in the middle of Kanata. It's hot, god it's so hot. Figures start singing in the distance. They come into view and it's the entire Ottawa Senators squad being led by.....Jacques Martin? They are singing acapella "Sweet Child' O Mine". Suddenly, they morph into 20 foot versions of themselves and their eyes turn black. Mike Hoffman looks at me and says "When is the coffee ready?" Then everyone pulls out a cup of coffee except Mike Hoffman. Again, Mike says "WHEN IS THE COFFEE READY??" He has a knife.
I am in an airplane. How did I get on this airplane? I look across from me: it's Jeremy Roenick wearing a Sens jersey. He buckles up his seat belt and says "It's gonna be a bumpy ride" and winks. I look out the window and realize, I'm not on a plane. I'm INSIDE Guy Boucher. I panic
I'm walking in a corn field. I'm lost. A voice comes over me "YOU ARE NOT LOST MY SON. YOU ARE FOUND." All the corn stalks get sucked up by a HUGE spaceship until all that's left is me and Erik Karlsson standing in front of me. Except he's half man- half horse. And he's drinking Mountain Dew
I am at the CTC , its game 7. They announce the crowd: "100 billion people, Thank you Sens Army." Clarke MacArthur skates to Centre Ice and starts clapping. But he's staring right at me. Everyone turns to me and then start laughing. I laugh too, until I realize I'm butt naked. Full balls out and everything. Mark Stone pukes
I am in the Sens dressing room, but the players can't see me. Am I a ghost? I float over to Borowiecki. He's asking coach if he can play tonight. Guy Boucher starts laughing and says "ARE YOU AN IDIOT? SENS TWITTER HATES YOU. SENS TWITTER RUNS THE SHOW NOT ME." Erik Condra and Boyz walk in. Everyone gets down on one knee out of respect and fear. Condra pulls out a pair of brass knuckles and a microphone and says: "Olleh ym sdneirf. Uoy era a maet fo ynitsed. Uoy lliw niw thginot dna og no ot niw eht yelnats puc ni cipe noihsaf. Uoy era eht tsetaerg maet ni eht yrotsih fo eht LHN. Tub sseug tahw syug? Uoy ewo em yenom. Won sti emit ot yap eht repip"
I wake up. But do I wake up? I am in my bed. But is this my bed? I am drunk? But am I drunk? Yes I am. I look over: it's Daniel Alfredsson in bed with me and he says "Good morning Hunny!"
Then I really woke up, all sweaty. I look at my calendar: it's Game 7!!!!! What does this all mean??? It means we're gonna win! Or, that I should be in a home.