Last night I dreamt I was Big Baby; no hope, no harm, just another false alarm

Ever wake up in the middle of the night, sheets soaked through and hair matted down, an uneasy feeling of dread spreading through your chest cavity like an advancing Panzer division?  It’s not a pleasant way to wake up.  And I’ve got to tell you: The slow dawn of realization that your body has reacted this way because your racing mind tricked you into thinking you were Glen “Big Baby” Davis really doesn’t help matters.  In fact, it kind of makes things worse, vis a vis feeling like a double-barrel shot of loser-cum-psychopath.

Personally, I blame the lasagna and butter pecan ice cream before bed.  When your dinner/dessert plans trace trails blazed by Garfield and Cathy, you kind of deserve what you get.

So here’s the deal: Me and my fellow Celtics are playing the Magic in the Eastern Conference semis — don’t know for sure which game, but we’re at home, so it’s either Game 1, 2, 5 or 7, and the feeling was pretty intense, so let’s assume it was Game 7.  Things are pretty nuts — crowd popping off, giant men all around me, frightening old men in grey jersey shirts holding whistles and balls, all the accoutrements of postseason insanity.

And I am immediately aware from the very start of the dream that I am DEFINITELY Glen “Big Baby” Davis.  I can’t stress that enough; I am not an idealized version of myself inserted in the game, like Captain N: The Video Master:

I am Big Baby.  I am playing over my head and out of my league, operating at a level of functionality that nobody rational believes is actually possible, forcing Stan Van Gundy to consider me as a legitimate offensive threat, etc.

Perhaps more important than that, I am Big Baby; I want his wants, I need his needs, I feel his feels and I think his thinks.  I made a dream journal mad quick after I woke up, and here’s what I could remember:


  • I was also kind of disappointed with Doc, because he just kept listening to his iPod during timeouts. Like, we’d all gather around the bench, expecting him to draw up plays or talk about spacing or whatever, and he’d just kind of go “Uhhhhhhhh” and when he turned his head to the left you could totally see the earbud in, and when you looked down you could see his foot tapping.  I think he was listening to “Opposites Attract” by Paula Abdul and MC Skat Kat.


  • I was extra happy when Perk made a basket, because then we could hug.  But then I got bummed out because he didn’t want to hug like KG and Po’ used to hug.  I guess I just like big hugs, guys.

  • When we were leading big in the fourth quarter — oh yeah, I think we won the game, so maybe you should book it — I really wanted to dance.  Like, every time we stopped playing, I kept looking up at the big screen for Gino, because when you see Gino you can dance, and dude, I can dance:

  • Surprisingly, I wasn’t really hungry. Huh.

That’s all I can really remember.  I’m a little bummed that there wasn’t more insights, but there’s always more playoff basketball, lasagna and butter pecan ice cream to kickstart my pineal gland.

The End.

Big Baby dance video courtesy of Pause Police.


One response to “Last night I dreamt I was Big Baby; no hope, no harm, just another false alarm

  1. Pingback: The 10-man rotation, starring an apologetic Rafer Alston | Lancilo USA

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