There were pickleball balls everywhere.
A random number of holes punched through each ball.
Some had circles and some had squares and some had triangles.
If you’re wondering what the heck is happening here, it was my very first pickleball nightmare.
I showed up to play with a group at my local tennis center. But there were more people than courts. I stood around awkwardly, debating if I should just leave.
I then transported to court number one to play with a stranger and her son. We hit the ball back-and-forth a bunch of times and were having a decent rally. I looked down at my pickleball paddle and realized it wasn’t my racket. Somehow, my usual paddle had transformed into a racketball paddle–one that reminded me of a paddle that my dad had when I was younger. Though, I never remember him playing the sport even once. But it was black with silver writing and a brown leather wrist tie.
After a few rallies, the woman’s kid started to interfere with the game, and we all ended up standing at the net talking about something.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
I’m no dream analyst, and something is telling me I shouldn’t break this one down too much. However, pickleball has crept into my subconscious.
And while I wish my dream were more about the positive aspects of starting pickleball and not the fears that trouble me, our brains will do what our brains will do.
The takeaway for me was pretty straightforward: I must make an effort not to overthink the game as I learn how to play it. Forget the hopes and the dreams and the new path pickleball is paving. The most important thing is that I enjoy myself. And simply having a beneficial hobby is enough.
What will my next slumber deliver? A pickleball the size of a Mack truck roaring towards me at 90 miles an hour? Or maybe the classic anxiety dream, where I hit the ball as hard as possible, and it travels nowhere. (Hey, in pickleball, that’s not too far from the truth).
I’m not sure what pickleball dreams are in store for me, but whether I am sleeping or awake, pickleball is on my mind!