Rarely do my dreams cause concern. After all they tend to be pretty tame. But last night's... whoa... I'll try my best to recap:

It was Sunday afternoon, Mark and I were watching American Football. The Chargers were on and I was excited to see LT breaking a few long runs to finally get his season kick-started. He was having a field-day, busting loose every time he touched it. We were analyzing whether it would be wise for me to pull the trade offer I have on the table in the Bill Hahn league since LT was finally looking like a difference maker (it has been two weeks). Then the broadcast jumped over to a McDonald's Game Break or something. More good news. Another of my personal fantasy investments, Larry Fitzgerald, was tearing it up with over 100 yards and two scores in the first half for the Buzzsaw. Must have been a Popeye's Game Break. Then I glanced at the bottom line and caught a glimpse of the name D Culpepper scrolling...

Of course what followed was the gasp. Then the rapid pulse. Finally the sweat. What could it all mean?

Well, amateur psychologists, go ahead and put your eyeglasses back on. I don't need any help with this one. I picked up Josh McCown earlier this week to be a one-week starter due to his favorable match-up against Cleveland's torchable D. I guess I failed to mention that my dreams are pretty transparent too.

So what do I do?

1. Bail on the premonition, play the match-up, start Josh McCown over Tony Romo and Jay Cutler
   
   
2. Trust that I have better vision with my eyes closed and no conciousness and drop McCown immediately
   
   
3. Start a Fantasy Fantasy Football League where real-life NFL players are awarded points based on stats from games I totally dream up

Labels: dreams, fantasy football