WhyAmINaked

Part one is a short one because part two is much, much more vivid. But anyways, I continue use of my MILD mantra before dozing off.

I'm watching basketball on television in a living room at what I feel like is my parents' house (I'm the only person in this dream). I'm also aware that I'm cooking something in the adjoining kitchen, so I'm not completely engrossed in the game.

In the basketball game, I know it's the Boston Celtics against the Miami Heat -- two teams that I root against. A lot of sequences involve LeBron James guarding Jason Terry (for the 99.9999% of you who don't watch the NBA, if this was a chess match, this is like watching a world-class chess player defending against a carrot), and Jason Terry is doing frustrating Jason Terry things that is frustrating because frustrating people is how frustrating Jason Terry frustrates. He's over-dribbling, driving into crowds, doing useless spins, putting up contested fadeaways... only it's all somehow fucking working. Seeing how I dislike Miami marginally more so than Boston, I root for the carrot despite my objections as a basketball fascist.

Anyways, I remember that I have a pot of broth on the stove; and when I go check, the broth is bubbling (but not going nuts). I manage the heat a little, and then I wake up.

The odd thing is, when I woke up at whatever dumb time it was, I got this overwhelming sense of melancholy about missing my parents, watching basketball, and cooking -- except that I stayed over at my parents house, watched basketball, and helped cook dinner that exact same night.