Last night was the second night in a row I dreamt very vividly that I was an Olympic swimmer. (The difference in last night's dream vs the first night's was that it's soundtrack was by Mannheim Steamroller.) The Penn State women's volleyball coach was our coach and he decided to put me into a relay at the very last minute. I was all "Put me in, Coach! I can do it!" and was jumping up and down raising my hand like a fifth grader trying to be called on in class. He finally said "You're in!" and told me to get going. He didn't tell me what stroke I was swimming in the relay, which freaked me out. I kept trying to ask the other swimmers what I was supposed to do, but no one answered, so I figured I'd just figure it out when I got up on the starting block.
I was also wearing a very Mom-ish moo moo type swimsuit, so I didn't match the other swimmers in their sleek racing suits. *sigh* Such is life...
It turns out I was to race the breaststroke leg of the relay, which was a huge relief because it's my breast (I mean, BEST) stroke. HA! HA! (I used to be on swim team in junior high for real, yo.) The rest of the story goes downhill from here. I did my laps and did okay, but we didn't win. I remember being very proud to hear the National Anthem played, though. I think I cried with pride. I mean, I was an OLYMPIAN.
I guess that's probably how it is for real Olympians. I'll just stick to dreaming. :)
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