Not sure what Freud or Kinsey would say. Dreams are supposed to show our inner thoughts. Night before last, I had a poker dream. Not a classic where I won the WSOP — too big a dream. Instead it was more along the line of being chased in slow motion.
As I said, it was a poker dream and a pretty nondescript casino. It look more like a banquet hall and the table was one of those long rectangles that populate them. You couldn’t see the other players. I think it was a 1-2NL table and I bought in for $200. They brought me $5 chips and some color.
A girl came up and sat next to me. She somehow couldn’t buy chips. Maybe the chip runner had gone on strike. Being a gentlemen, I advanced her some chips while waiting. For some reason, I gave her the color – $150. No chips arrived so she went to get them and took mine along. When she came back she gave me my chips back but had changed them to $1 and $.50 chips — ante was $1.50. So she handed me this mountain of chips with a stack balanced on top precariously.
She was attractive, I guess. What I recall, her dress was a summary 50’s brocade in a floral pattern. It was sleeveless and the collar resembled those horse collar one Hillary wears; but this extended out over her shoulders This was a silent dream but in Technicolor. I guess trying to juggle all those chips was too disturbing as it woke me up.
The thing was more a horror story than a poker session. The table was impossible, the dealer strange, I couldn’t see the cards. Thankfully, I woke up before I lost my ass. I have no idea what brought on the dream.
Freudian analysis by Sparky36 likely to follow. Sparky, I wasn’t smoking a cigar.
Henry Adams wrote in the early 20th century that “politics, as a practice whatever its professions, had always been the systematic organization of hatreds,” there was ample reason to take him literally.