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Ski Nightmares (literally)
- Thread starter Fluffy Kitty
- Start date
I just came across this article well reading the New York Times this morning. I guess some of this is pretty normal! https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/10/opinion/sunday/dreams-meaning-science.html
[Not exactly a nightmare, because it ends during a positive moment, but the "series of obstacles" theme is common in my dreams.]
I arrive at the mountain, and drag the equipment into the lodge. I notice how much softer my new skis are compared to my old ones. I glare at the “rocker” on the base of the new skis, and it’s literally a rocker, i.e., a near-triangular fulcrum about two inches thick.
It’s fully one inch thicker than the rocker on my old skis, and I wonder how they would handle.
As I put my boots on, I realize there are three people going past me. My tormentors from high school; actually, one of them was nice to me at times, but I really don’t want to deal with them right now.
I wonder how good they are at skiing. They are probably atrocious, but one of them, the “nice” one, was on an athletic team. They’re also all from rich families, and have been skiing since they were little.
They ski out of the lodge toward the lift.
I follow them out. I gotta see them ski.
It is snowing. It has snowed at least a foot, with more to come. Great first day of the season.
The snow on the ground is very patchy, with dirt still showing through. I cannot edge the skis; they are too wide-waisted. I try to stay calm, and realize they are fantastic crud-gliders, smoothing over the roughness, even the tracked-out piles of snow right by the lift. I even manage a hop over a pushed-up pile of snow.
I happily get on the chair. The bullies are several chairs ahead of me, and I can’t see them.
Half-way up, I swing my legs a bit too hard, and an eight-inch-long rod pops out from the base. It’s the slope sensor, part of the system that adjusts the torsion strength of the skis depending on the terrain. Despite my best efforts, it is hard not to hit it with my right ski, and the bindings disengage. The ski drops, and I moan; skiing is going to be on hold until the ski is somehow retrieved.
Just then, the lift stops. The snowboarder who is sitting on the chair behind me happens to be close to the ground. He walks off the lift, picks up my ski, and gets back on, showing me a thumbs-up. I try to express just how grateful I am.
The top of the hill isn’t too far away. It’s my first run of the season, and I have brand-new skis. I should go down the green side.
I look at the blue side. It’s got a thick layer of cream-cheese snow, already slightly tracked out.
Exactly the situation I bought these skis for.
I head for the blue side.
As I wake up, I realize I have forgotten about the bullies.
[You know what's really a nightmare? Bachelor is putting a park on the trail that's my favorite spot for doing drills... the only trail at Bachelor that is good for doing drills... uncrowded, evenly sloped, and shaded enough that the snow stays firm...
]
I arrive at the mountain, and drag the equipment into the lodge. I notice how much softer my new skis are compared to my old ones. I glare at the “rocker” on the base of the new skis, and it’s literally a rocker, i.e., a near-triangular fulcrum about two inches thick.
It’s fully one inch thicker than the rocker on my old skis, and I wonder how they would handle.
As I put my boots on, I realize there are three people going past me. My tormentors from high school; actually, one of them was nice to me at times, but I really don’t want to deal with them right now.
I wonder how good they are at skiing. They are probably atrocious, but one of them, the “nice” one, was on an athletic team. They’re also all from rich families, and have been skiing since they were little.
They ski out of the lodge toward the lift.
I follow them out. I gotta see them ski.
It is snowing. It has snowed at least a foot, with more to come. Great first day of the season.
The snow on the ground is very patchy, with dirt still showing through. I cannot edge the skis; they are too wide-waisted. I try to stay calm, and realize they are fantastic crud-gliders, smoothing over the roughness, even the tracked-out piles of snow right by the lift. I even manage a hop over a pushed-up pile of snow.
I happily get on the chair. The bullies are several chairs ahead of me, and I can’t see them.
Half-way up, I swing my legs a bit too hard, and an eight-inch-long rod pops out from the base. It’s the slope sensor, part of the system that adjusts the torsion strength of the skis depending on the terrain. Despite my best efforts, it is hard not to hit it with my right ski, and the bindings disengage. The ski drops, and I moan; skiing is going to be on hold until the ski is somehow retrieved.
Just then, the lift stops. The snowboarder who is sitting on the chair behind me happens to be close to the ground. He walks off the lift, picks up my ski, and gets back on, showing me a thumbs-up. I try to express just how grateful I am.
The top of the hill isn’t too far away. It’s my first run of the season, and I have brand-new skis. I should go down the green side.
I look at the blue side. It’s got a thick layer of cream-cheese snow, already slightly tracked out.
Exactly the situation I bought these skis for.
I head for the blue side.
As I wake up, I realize I have forgotten about the bullies.
[You know what's really a nightmare? Bachelor is putting a park on the trail that's my favorite spot for doing drills... the only trail at Bachelor that is good for doing drills... uncrowded, evenly sloped, and shaded enough that the snow stays firm...
]
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I had a weird ski-dream last night, and discovered this thread. It's about the ski-area-from-hell, LOL.
I am going skiing with a small group of younger, less experienced women, somewhere in the East (maybe the Catskills). We arrive at the ticket windows to discover that one must purchase tickets for each trail you plan to ski, and there is a gigantic trail map with all of the trails listed above the ticket windows.
Since most people have no idea of what trails they will want to ski, and how different trails connect to one another, it is a huge cluster* of people milling around, trying to figure out what trails they'll want to ski, coordinate with their friends, decide how long they'll be skiing for the day, etc.
At some point my group purchases their tickets, and I think we all had one run, after which we decide to stop to eat. Needless to say, the food options were as bizarre as the pass options. The two options were the one and only, outrageously-expensive restaurant at the ski area, or you could drive out to the road leading to the resort, which was lined with food trucks that actually spilled off the road into a large field. There were probably 20-30 trucks, and some of them had open trailers behind them where they had huge piles of food (like gigantic uncooked hot dogs, etc) stored, uncovered.
At that point, while we were milling around, deciding where we wanted to eat, my dogs (who, I swear, have alarm clocks built into their heads) decided that it was precisely 8 AM, and time for me to get up, so i never did get to see what we ate, nor how the skiing turned-out. It's probably for the best, LOL.
I am going skiing with a small group of younger, less experienced women, somewhere in the East (maybe the Catskills). We arrive at the ticket windows to discover that one must purchase tickets for each trail you plan to ski, and there is a gigantic trail map with all of the trails listed above the ticket windows.
Since most people have no idea of what trails they will want to ski, and how different trails connect to one another, it is a huge cluster* of people milling around, trying to figure out what trails they'll want to ski, coordinate with their friends, decide how long they'll be skiing for the day, etc.
At some point my group purchases their tickets, and I think we all had one run, after which we decide to stop to eat. Needless to say, the food options were as bizarre as the pass options. The two options were the one and only, outrageously-expensive restaurant at the ski area, or you could drive out to the road leading to the resort, which was lined with food trucks that actually spilled off the road into a large field. There were probably 20-30 trucks, and some of them had open trailers behind them where they had huge piles of food (like gigantic uncooked hot dogs, etc) stored, uncovered.
At that point, while we were milling around, deciding where we wanted to eat, my dogs (who, I swear, have alarm clocks built into their heads) decided that it was precisely 8 AM, and time for me to get up, so i never did get to see what we ate, nor how the skiing turned-out. It's probably for the best, LOL.
I had a dream last year or maybe the year before that. I was going somewhere with my husband, and all of the sudden we were at the top of a high snowy peak, and the only way to get down was to ski. I had to make it through an ice cave and then rocky spines like you see in some of the ski movies. I woke up rather terrified. However in my dream, I did make it down. LOL
Sorry to see I have company in the ski nightmare department. I never thought to call them that but it couldn’t be more true. I’ve had one dream out of many many when I actually get on the snow even for just one run and it is a blast. Snow is perfect I’m jumping all over the place. Usually I am on a series of escalators trying to get to the lift or get to the lift and forgot my skis or once even found myself with friends in the middle if a lift with no skis. Why didn’t I bring my skis and how did I get there?
My nightmare before my first ski day this year was pretty ridiculous. I was feeling a little anxious about the COVID protocols, about the reservation system, the potential crowds, etc. etc. But the dream involved someone getting shot in the head, and my car, with my dog inside, getting stolen. This seemed a little over the top given that it was anxiety about a ski day.
