The final score: Seahawks 31, Steelers 21!
Or so it unfolded in my dream this early morning. But I had no actual chance to watch the Super Bowl due to other vague-and-never-defined responsibilties. As it went with just about all my slumber-induced brain activites, there was no logic or order as to the sequence of events. Yet they always somehow seem to make sense during my repose even though the moment I awaken I am aware enough to dismiss the just-concluded discord as "it was only a dream."
Sometimes that's a relief.
Truth be told, I have no real preference regarding tomorrow's gridiron contest. I have a difficult time rooting for or against either team. And I am willing to admit I really enjoy watching the Super Bowl just to check out the commercials. Just like most everyone else.
Regarding my previous post, it seems James Lileks has the same malady that afflicts both Mary Katherine and me. Read the paragraph about the ice cream.
And it seems I am not the only one who liked a particular variety of Kool-Aid.
Someone out there REALLY wants it still.
Could a trip to the Great White North be in my future?
Enough about that. If the game's final score is anything like the above, I probably better start paying more attention to my subconscious. Or head to Vegas.
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