I used to be, once upon a time, a goalkeeper. Not of any particular note but I like to think, had I had a father influence in my younger years, to nurture me along, I might, just might have been, half decent.
I also dream, although I can very rarely remember any of the detail. Most of the ones I do remember are just plain wired. I can safely say, apart from the falling dream where you jump, I never ever act them out, until last night.
I was playing in goal, not in any particular team or tournament, just a game of football. It may have been an important fixture but I can't remember that part.
A cross swung in from my right, waist height towards the edge of the 6 yard box. So, not on target but a cross to be attacked. I dived out and stopped the ball with my left hand and pulled it to the ground, still in one hand. I spotted an attacker sliding in and therefore needed to secure possession by grasping the ball with both hands. I slapped my right hand down onto the side of the ball, or what I was dreaming was the ball. I had in fact taken possession of Nicki, my partner. One hand was rested on the back of her head and the other, taking control of the ball, slapped down the side of her face. Needless to say, we both awoke with a start, and a moment of puzzlement. Fortunately I'd not bought the right hand down with a huge amount f of force, just enough to wake a sleeping partner.
The moral of this sorry tale.
It's a good job I'm not a continental keeper or, I may have punched it clear..
