Dream of: 24 July 1996 "Worn-Out Horse"

I was driving to an event for which I was holding a ticket. When I looked at the ticket, I saw the word "Goethe" written on it, and I thought I was going to a play by the Goethe, but then I realized I wasn't going to a play at all – I was headed to a Dallas Cowboy football game, a major game which only took place once a year. Looking again at the ticket, I now recalled that my father had earlier advised me to be sure to keep the ticket stub, that because this was such an important game, one day the stub would be valuable.

***

When I reached the ballpark, I realized my pet Dalmatian Picasso was with me, and that I would have to do something with him. Fortunately there was a special place at the park where dogs could be left, and I dropped Picasso off there, even before I parked the car. I then headed to a large parking lot where cars were streaming in to park. I concentrated on the job at hand until I managed to pull into a small area where only a few cars were parked, and where many parking places were still open. I began wondering if parking was really permitted there; I thought the area might be reserved for members of the football team. I decided to park there anyway, but doing so was a terrible hassle. I wanted to be sure that when I was ready to leave I wouldn't be blocked in, that I would be able to just hop into the car and take off. So to park the car just right, I had to actually get out, lift the car up, and push it around to the right spot.

When I finished, I finally headed to the ticket window, realizing that I had been taking a awfully long time, and that the game was about to begin. Almost everyone else was already inside. As I hurried to the window, I looked at my ticket and saw that it was "17G." Just as I reached the window, I tore my ticket in half. I immediately realized that I had made a mistake, that I shouldn't have torn the ticket before reaching the window. Actually I saw three windows, with a woman sitting at each one, but two of the women were no longer taking tickets. So I walked up to the third window and handed the woman there my ticket. She immediately told me that because the ticket had been torn, I would be unable to use it. I began complaining until the woman began looking through a pile of blue tickets which she had. She was trying to see if she could find a ticket which would match mine, but she couldn't find one. By that time some other late-comers had also shown up and were impatiently waiting behind me. We could hear activity inside the stadium; clearly the game was about to begin – we were going to miss the kick-off. It seemed that in this game the kick-off was particularly important

Finally the woman at the counter found a ticket I could use, and she handed it to me. I saw that it was "15G." As I picked it up, I asked the woman if I could also keep the stubs from my "17G" ticket. The woman had already picked up half of the "17G" ticket, and she didn't seem to understand my question. So I just went ahead and picked up the other half of the ticket. I thought I would keep the stub for a souvenir. As I was about to walk off, I asked the woman if she could tell me where the dogs were kept. She pointed toward the entrance and said the dogs were right inside and to the right.

When I walked over to the entrance and went inside, I found myself at one end of the football field. Both teams were lined up for the kick-off. Suddenly the ball was kicked from the other end toward the end where I was. The ball rolled all the way toward me until it was only a few feet away. The ball didn't look like a football. It was quite large and looked more like an oblong basketball. I thought it must be some kind of special ball only used for kick-offs. No one caught it and it rolled out of bounds near me.

Anxious to check on Picasso to see if he was all right before I sat down, I walked over to a nearby area which looked like a horse stable. When I walked into the stable area, I was surprised to see a large group of perhaps 50 dogs. I was also surprised to hear only one dog barking. I began looking at the dogs until I finally saw a Dalmatian, but it wasn't Picasso. Then I realized there were actually several other groups of dogs, and I kept looking through them until finally I spotted Picasso. He was standing underneath an old brown worn-out horse, the only horse I saw there. Picasso, pressed among a bunch of other dogs, looked sad. Picasso was spoiled and had never been left alone like that. I thought it was good for him to be away from me for a while, and since he didn't see me, I decided not to go to him. I just wanted to look in on him to make sure he was all right.

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