Whack Dreams

I've been having especially vivid dreams as of late. Two nights ago, I had a dream about my 4th Grade baseball coach, Mr. Richards. He was the father of a good elementary school buddy who had a house with a pool. In no uncertain terms, Mr. Richards and was a complete ass. He was one of those pony league coaches who loved antics --- screaming at umpires, yelling at the other coaches and riling up parents. He was really good at riling up my own father. The guy delighted in keeping kids he didn't like --- namely little 4th grade smart mouths like me --- from playing in games. I got my league mandatory two innings and two turns at bat and that was it. After the 5th time he did this, my Dad had a show down with Mr. Richards. My Dad called him out and Mr. Richards started in on his antics. It was the first time that I thought my relatively peaceful father was going to punch somebody. It ended after a lot of shouting and no punching. The end result was little Johnny got a lot more playing time. But in my dream from two nights ago, I punched Mr. Richards. I woke up after this because I had actually thrown a punch in my sleep. It also woke Karen briefly after my arm brushed her face, although my fist made no contact with her thank God. I told Karen about my dream the next day. She didn't remember my flailing arm or waking up. But she laughed at my dream state violence. However it wouldn't be funny if I'd made contact --- I shudder to think my wife could get a black eye for something that happened to me 29 years ago. And I just might become the first person in America to be charged with sleep-related family violence.