Fucked Up Dreams And The Art Of Playing Poker Donkeys
I had this dream last night where a male acquaintance of mine was taunting me in conversation. Then he went to grab my dick. I said “What the fuck man? Why would you do that? That’s messed up.” Then I thought, “What do you mean it’s messed up? It’s your dream, dumb-ass.”
Occasionally I have some really messed up dreams. When I was 19, there was a period when I hadn’t masturbated in three months, as an experiment. During that time I had a wet dream, almost. I had a wet dream about seeing a fat pregnant woman in a mall, going up to her, and rubbing my penis against her pregnant belly. I wish I was making this up – but who knows what weird shit goes on in the subconscious really. I woke up and I was orgasming. I clenched my buttcheeks really tight and held it in.
The week after that I restarted a regular schedule of the five knuckle shuffle. Probably a good thing, otherwise I might have become a belly-rubbing pervert for life.
Then there was this other dream I had, around the same time. I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. Hanging over the sink was a basket containing a bouquet of flowers. Except instead of flowers, there were penises, and all the foreskins were sewn shut. I told my friend Matt that one. He said I should probably see a shrink. I can’t imagine what a shrink would say, probably something like “Yeah, you’re right – that is pretty fucked up,” and charge me $200. Freud would have a field day and study me for years on end, telling me that the penises represented my repressed desire to smoke cigars, and eat bratwurst and frankfurters. I always thought Freud must have had a really hot mum and that’s how he came up with the idea of the Oedipus complex.
I don’t know if most people have messed up dreams like that, or I just have a twisted imagination. For all I know, half the world could have dreams about penises, Oedipus and Electra complexes, and vagina dentata phobias and/or fetishes. One thing is for sure, if they did have them, no one would talk about it. See, this is the good I do by being honest. I’m starting a world wide web conversation of hope, peace, family issue resolution, and toothed vaginas.
Anyway, speaking of fucked-up dreams, let me tell you about my ambition of becoming a professional poker player. I’m $500 up at the poker table in the last three weeks. I built up a decent bankroll from just two buy-ins of $20. (Excluding the hundreds of dollars that I’ve already lost at the poker table to get this good). I don’t spend any of my bankroll, but it’s funny how much richer I feel after blowing every spare cent on poker for the last few months.
I play on the electronic tables at Crown. They call them “PokerPro”. “More hands per hour, more action.” They should call it “PokerPro: more sick beats per hour,” considering the amount of crazy donkeys that want to have a gamble. “Where is the button for ‘all in’?” they say. Last night a couple of guys saw me sit down, holding a copy of Professional No-Limit Hold ‘Em and commented “Sorry buddy – didn’t you know? Poker is 90% luck.” I was kind of pissed off at how stupid they were, but at the same time, I started to hear a distinct ringing sound in my ears. “Ka-ching!” it went. “Ka-ching! Ka-ching!”. They obviously thought you have more or less the same odds whether you play Blackjack, Roulette, or Texas Hold ‘Em. They may as well have been wearing shirts that said “Please, Take My Money. I Am Too Stupid To Have Or Deserve It.”
Today, I came out $15 behind, which is a “bad” day for me. My friend Ilya always tells me how sick Internet poker is, and how he hardly ever plays on JokerStars anymore. He says they set up big hands against each other to make bigger pots, then collect the rake to make a cool million, or $0.50, depending on the table. Well, maybe. I find it hard to believe.
I remember the last hand I ever played at the Strat. I went all in pre-flop for $12. The dealer, Stephen, said “Any donations?” He hated me because I always forgot to tip him, and he liked to mock my accent “Thanks mate,” etc. I got a caller on the other side of the table, the half-Mexican guy who was always chewing on the stick of a lollipop. I had pocket aces. He had five deuce suited. He hit his straight on the river. After that it crossed my mind that Stephen and the cholo were in cahoots and manipulated the cards against me. Well, maybe. More likely he just got lucky, and he called because he thought if he won I would go on tilt and buy-in again. Or maybe he just did it for the lulz.
Losing money in a game of chance can make people come up with a multitude of silly theories about how they lost it. They get scared, or they go on tilt, become emotional. They revert to their emotional nature, cloud out their logic, and become superstitious. More and more it becomes obvious to me that the average person playing poker is like a man trying to find his way through a small booby-trapped labyrinth in a deep fog. There’s lots of pit-falls, but there’s also a good-enough chance that he’ll stumble his way to the gold at the centre. Maybe he’ll bring the gold out with him, maybe not. For me, poker is still like a booby-trapped labyrinth, but the fog is beginning to clear. I know a lot of the pitfalls to avoid, because I’ve either stepped in them before, or studied the map closely enough that I know where to tread carefully.
Further recommended reading: Theory of Poker by David Sklansky, No-Limit Hold ‘Em: Theory and Practice by Sklansky & Miller, Professional No-Limit Hold ‘Em Volume One by Flynn, Mehmet & Miller.
Related Posts:
Comments (14)
Hey buddy, everyone has fucked up dreams when they are going through that time of life. I remember waking up from a wet dream. It was a really interesting experience. I remember the dream. I saw 2 cars at a drive in. I was creeping up behind them and I noticed the cars were up on blocks without wheels. The car on the left was rocking around like people were fucking inside. I didn’t look in. I proceeded to stick my penis in the exhaust pipe and fuck the shit out of it. I am 100% telling the truth. I woke with the constricted feeling I perceived in my dream around my cock and a loads spewing uncontrollably out.
To this day i still don’t understand why that was my wet dream.
[Reply]
haha what a revhead. kaz always used to mock motorheads, saying they always said stuff like “WOW that car made me sprog in my pants!” maybe that’s where you got the idea
[Reply]
ha i’ve already told you about my fucked up dreams
[Reply]
have you? do you care to share with the rest of the internet?
[Reply]
My friend had this trip on acid once where he was about to go down on this girl, then her vagina turned into a mouth with teeth and started talking to him about how he has issues with women. Needless to say, he didn’t get any action after that.
[Reply]
tsk tsk. out of all the things to trust, you should never trust a vagina
[Reply]
sure, i’ve had dreams where i make sweet love to women with a scalpal
[Reply]
Kurt Robinson Reply:
October 16th, 2009 at 12:45 pm
doesn’t it feel better to get that off your chest?
[Reply]
oh yeah i just remembered how the whole thing went. that was a good one
[Reply]
What’s up the whole world, I’m mod to the forum and impartial wanted to bid hey.
[Reply]
you sure are buddy. you sure are.
thanks for the link by the way. i’ll be fapping to that all night.
[Reply]
What’s up all, I’m redone to the forum and indistinguishable wanted to transmogrify hey.
[Reply]
no shit?
[Reply]
by the way… has anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like?
[Reply]