dreaming

The other night I dreamt I was doing a biathlon (it was called “doathlon” in dream lingo). For the interval of a blink I thought that if I take my bike out as well, I could make it a tri. But then it occurred to me the second event in my doathlon wasn’t swimming, but shooting. Pistol target shooting, the sport I practiced years ago. It is almost two decades now since I lay my hand on a pistol.

In the dream, it wasn’t that far behind. It was shooting, my passion and redemption for so many years. Now I could combine it with running.

The dream never reached the actual competition. For all its duration and action, as vague as it was, I was concerned with one single consideration: how would I steady myself after the hype of running to reach in a minimal amount of time the composure required for shooting – that calm, still focus of utmost concentration that suspends breathing, thought, and any kind of interference, while I pull the trigger.

I am totally out of it after a running race. I breath like a locomotive, I am restless, my mind is blank. If I wait until I am self-possessed again, my transition time in the doathlon throws me out of the competitive range. If I start shooting too soon, the shots will not go off smoothly.

I fought with this conundrum for the duration of half a night, envisioning a tremendous effort of collecting myself in seconds after the run – no panting, no pacing, no relief, just the unmoving gun as an extension of my arm and intent. That’s where the dream ended.

There is actually a biathlon event, a combination of cross-country skiing and shooting, although it’s rifle shooting, prone position, offering more stability that pistol.

I wonder why I dreamt this.