PAST DREAM: 4/13/08
Chloe and I are on the sidelines of a giant football field. Everything on the field is off-center. It is the Carnegie Mellon football team, and Gabe is the captain. Chloe and I are bored, and tell Gabe so. “It’s a fucking useless sport,” Gabe says, and takes a drag on a cigarette before stubbing it in the astroturf. An announcement comes over the loudspeaker, and it is announced that Bill Gates has died. There will be a prolonged period of mourning, and the announcer says that we will have 32-65, which is in this world like 24-7, but it means 65 hours of mourning for 32 sixty-five-hour-periods. I don’t understand. There will be a reception immediately following the game to commemorate Bill Gates in Cyert, which is now 52 stories tall. The players get in position. “No one wears helmets?” I ask aloud. No one responds. “I guess it’s a summer thing,” I shrug to myself. The game starts and Gabe is standing ten feet away from the guy who punts, who messes up miserably, and the ball just sort of skids along the field a few feet before being taken by the other team. Gabe walks up to the punt-guy and screams an inch from his face. I take a step back and Chloe clutches my wrist in horror. It is the scariest thing I have ever seen, the anger radiating from Gabe.
