Friday night I had a dream.
I went to a friend's house before the race to visit for a bit, but when I got there his wife threw herself to the ground and started wailing.
Their house seemed strange. Most of their furniture was missing and they had a downstairs roommate. He had the stairwell lined with empty Harpoon IPA 12 packs. Their floors were newly refinished, but had deep scars.
When I got to the race it turned out it had already started. My parents had come to help. I rushed to get ready to make up some of the 14 minutes I was already behind. I asked my Dad for a water bottle and he just stood there smiling and nodding his head. I asked again and still the same. It was as if he just didn't understand what I was saying and was just nodding out of habit.
I gave up on getting the bottle from him and looked for my jersey. It was at the bottom of my cooler, wet and dirty from my last race.
Fortunately I woke up.