FANTASY: Tell him he’s dreaming

by Ged McMahon

I had a dream last night. A sporting dream. I guess that’s nothing special for the average Australian male but this was a little different to my usual sporting dreams.

You see, normally they become nightmares. They are tales of woe, so close yet so far, tales of embarrassment and complete humiliation. I make the Australian cricket team and just as we’re about to take the field I can’t find my pants. I’ve lined up for the Olympic 100m sprint, after years of intense training I’m a remarkable physical specimen, but when the starter’s gun goes off I can’t run, I crawl painstakingly up the track to the boos and jeers of all in attendance.

That had become the norm for me, but last night something special happened. I took to the field with the all conquering Essendon 2000 AFL Premiership side in a Grand Final against the current reigning Premiers Geelong. I was waiting to discover that as the first bounce came tumbling down from the sky the laces on my boots would be tied together, or Mum would be calling me inside for dinner.

But no, last night I lived in the moment. In the first play I had the ball on a string, rifling handballs to running teammates, kicking long to Matty Lloyd, and then the piece de resistance, I booted a goal on Grand Final day at the MCG. The crowd roared. Essendon were dominating. Dustin Fletcher was using his Inspector Gadget limbs to maximum affect, Damien Hardwick was putting his body on the line, and James Hird was at his brilliant best. It was all so vivid. At some stage I guess my girlfriend lying next to me wondered why I was kicking, elbowing and tackling her.

Things eventually got a bit weird. By the end of the first quarter I was in a scuffle with Gary Ablett Junior. He had that whining look on his face that he often gets and for whatever reason he was not happy with me. I guess it was because I was now the best player in the league. He didn’t like being dethroned on such a big stage.

Alas, I didn’t see the game out. I woke up some time after my scuffle with Gazza.

But somehow this was all significant to me. I jumped out of bed in the morning with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. I was ready to take on the world and even resolved that in the afternoon I would head down to the park and have a kick of the footy.

I’ve neither the money nor the inclination to discuss this transformation with a qualified dream therapist. So I resort to the next best thing …

I discover that dreaming about Mardi Gras indicates a need to “release your inhibitions and let yourself go”. Hardly rocket science. Somewhat more puzzling was that dreaming about eating marshmallows “represents timidity and lack of self-confidence”. Apparently you need to “be more assertive and stand up for yourself”. I just thought if I dreamt about eating marshmallows I’d wake up without a pillow and have feathers stuck in my teeth.
To further confuse me, dreaming of roasting marshmallows indicates “growth and motivation”.

Eventually I sought interpretation for my more regular tales of sporting woe. Dreaming that I’m not able to run as fast as I would like “signifies lack of self-esteem and self-confidence”. Dreaming that I’m missing something “denotes a sense of being out of control and being disorganised”.

The interpretations kind of make sense. Plus I’d read them on the internet so they must be true.

I do have a fear of being out of control and disorganised. Resulting in an obsessive compulsive approach to my current club cricket career.

And the lack of self-esteem and confidence is possibly borne from the fact that at 27 years of age I’m finally resigned to the fact that I’m not going to Captain the Bombers to a Premiership and I might not make a stoic ton at Lords in an Ashes Test. A shattering realisation.

But last night’s dream suggests a shift in my unconscious self. Dreaming of scoring a goal “may be telling you that your path to success is within reach”. And dreaming of being part of a highly functioning team “may be a metaphor that you have your life together”.

This has given me hope. Maybe it’s not too late. Apparently success is within reach now that I’ve unknowingly gotten my life together. I’ve also learnt that it’s all about how you take your marshmallows, raw or cooked? So from now on I’ll be roasting my marshmallows and look out Gary, my dream could become your worst nightmare.

About Ged McMahon

Ged McMahon has been a Bombers fan for as long as he can remember. With a Grandpa who grew up just a spiralling torpedo punt from Windy Hill he didn't have much choice. When his junior football career resulted in almost as many possessions as games he eventually had to bite the bullet and give up his dream of captaining the Bombers to a Premiership. So his weekly footy fix became confined to the stands. He yearns for the next Premiership.


  1. Bloody brilliant!

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