It’s a curious thing that we men so often wake up with raging boners. You might assume it’s because we have sex on the brain twenty-four seven, but I don’t think so. I think it’s just a blood flow thing. Of course, I could google it and put the matter to rest, but I’m hesitant to enter “morning erection” into the search box. I can see myself in a court room someday trying to explain that I was just “researching” for a blog post. No. I can’t risk it. Besides, I know for a fact that I wasn’t dreaming about anything sexual when I woke up this morning because I remember the dream clearly. I was in high school, participating in a gym class run by my former soccer coach. In real life, that coach always had it in for me ever since the day my older brother told him to “shove that whistle up your ass!” My brother quit the team that day, leaving me behind to take the heat for the next two years. Anyway, the dream kept morphing between gym class, soccer practice, and some sort of camping trip, all run by my former coach. At one point we were sitting around a campfire and the coach decided he wanted to bake up a pie. He sent me off to the supply room to fetch a “one-by-four” pie pan. Once in the room, I realized I no idea what he meant by “one-by-four.” It couldn’t be inches. That would make it too small. Four sides and one bottom? Too general. Anyway, after tearing apart the supply room I returned with an aluminum pan that seemed suitable for the task, but the coach berated me in front of the rest of the kids for “fucking everything up, as always!” This sent me into a rage and, in complete contrast to how things played out between us in reality, I went-the-fuck-off on the coach, ripping him up and down for all the times he unfairly picked on me to get back at my brother. The denouement arrived as I crumpled up the aluminum pan into a dense ball, threw it at the coach, and then hit him with this: “Have a nice pie!”
No wonder I woke up in such a state…