So last night, while dreaming, I was arguing with someone that “I didn’t used to be this bad at hockey”, and they didn’t believe me. So I pulled up my NHL stats. Between age 35 and 40 I was the Jets 7th Dman, played 42 games, and had 20 points. They still didn’t believe, so they pulled up YouTube looking for video clips. The first hit was “Unrau’s defensive blunder costs Jets game 6 and the series.”
My reoccurring dream is that I show up to the rink/odr and I’m already late. Then getting ready is what I imagine putting hockey gear on in the middle of a mushroom trip would be like. I always forget gear or walk out to the rink without my skates or something. I never get to play hockey in my dreams. It’s the ultimate edging
I had a dream where my wife’s long lost uncle in the Philippines passed away and left his youth hockey team to his closest Canadian relative, which was her. We moved to his small town to coach the team, who were a ragtag bunch of screw-ups.
I discovered that there was a little-known rule that you could substitute any player on your roster with a number of feral cats equal to the player’s weight, so we went and recruited the heaviest kid in town. We ended up winning the championship that season.
That is amazing 🤩 haha – imagine that rule applies in the NHL. Big Buff would have had an unfair feral cat above replacement advanced stat.
Lmao wat.
From four months ago:
So I had an elaborate, and extended dream last night where I was investigating the Winnipeg Jets.
It started with interviewing Patrick Laine. I asked him: what if the Jets had made you captain and given you some major control of the franchise, would that have enticed you to stay, and if so, what major changes would you have made? And he said: “well, for starters, I would scrap all those boreholes”. Wait what?
So I snuck into Chevy’s office to find that he had drilled a very deep borehole into the earth, and had installed an inclinometer in it. Based on the reading of the inclinometer needle, he would have one of the ladies in the office cut a piece of marble cake at that angle. Then they would analyze the pattern in the cake like an ink blot to determine the future of the franchise.
I spent the rest of the dream trying to find the Winnipeg Free Press reporter to tell him this, but he knew and wouldn’t publish it because he had signed an NDA.
Damn, man, even your subconscious is saying you suck at hockey. You need to learn to love yourself a little.
Or learn to accept you’re not good at hockey, I dunno I’m not a dreamologist.
My D division beer league rec team may agree with you ;)
I dream about hockey all the time. My last one was walking in the dressing room without flip-flops. It woke me straight up.
