As long as we’ve walked upright, people have looked for signs of the future. Our ancestors foretold events to come from the stars, from dreams, from tea leaves in the bottom of a cup. Our friends seek relationship and career advice from psychics who smell like patchouli, wear long flowing skirts, and read tarot cards.
Somewhere along the way, we also started looking towards animals to choose the winners of sporting events. There’s an octupus named Paul who predicted the outcome of the World Cup. A pair of manatees named Hugh and Buffet were asked to choose their Superbowl favorite. The outcome of that was divided, although I’m going with Hugh The Manatee since he chose the Steelers and was also by far the cutest of the two.
Earlier this week I was watching the morning news and saw a segment where an elephant was given two watermelons, one painted to look like a Packers football and the other representing the Steelers. He strolled over to the Packers melon, gave it a once over, then trotted over to the Steelers one and stomped the crap out of it with his fat elephant foot.
My grandmother likes telling a story about how when I was little, she used to take me to a local shopping mall that had a merry-go-round. I always wanted to ride the elephant. One afternoon, the elephant was broken. Instead of picking another animal, I pouted and declared it a “damn felement!” And that’s exactly what I said years later, watching that news segment.
If you believe the animal forecasters (at least the ones I’ve seen – I’m sure there are hundreds I haven’t), the odds seem to be in the Packers favor. But I have my own human Oracle here at home, and the prediction I got from him last night is leaning in my favor. At least that’s how I’m interpreting it.
Every now and then, Lee talks in his sleep. Usually it is just a mumble here and there, but every now and then it’ll be a doozy. He went to bed at about 11 last night, and I decided to stay up and watch a creepy movie. So there I am, all curled up on the couch in my blankets. On TV, some chick is running through a maze of corn, trying to escape a bunch of hicktown rednecks. On top of that, a long-dead crazy preacher’s spirit keeps inhabiting the soul of dead dudes and animating scarecrows.
Out of the blue, Lee calls out to me from the bedroom. “Did you see THAT?” He sounds a little disturbed. Of course I didn’t see what he saw, since we’re separated by a wall.
“See what?” I call back, thinking he’s awake.
“THAT!” he yells back, clear as day and even louder.
“Where?” I try again, starting to get up off the couch.
“On the TV!” he replies, now sounding downright aggravated. You know how annoying it is when someone asks you where something is – their keys or wallet maybe – and the whole time the ‘missing’ item is right in front of their face? Well, that’s what he sounded like.
At that point I plopped myself back down on the couch, realizing that he was just sleep-talking. There is no TV in the bedroom, so he wasn’t seeing the crazy cornfield scarecrow preacher zombie. He was just dreaming. In a moment, he was snoozing peacefully again.
When he woke me up this morning, I asked him if he’d had a weird dream. He gave me a puzzled look and said “I don’t think so, why?” So I told him about the TV incident, and we had a good laugh.
In retrospect though, I think it was a prediction. He’s all about the Packers today, for no other reason than pure and simple Steeler-hatin’. So I figure he was dreaming about the Superbowl, and that tone of aggravation meant he was seeing something he didn’t like.
Something like a Steelers win.
Hey, if manatees and other critters can do it, why not my boyfriend? So crap on that Steelers-stompin’ felement.
Author’s note: Don’t bring out the white coats and straightjacket. I really don’t believe that manatees, elephants, or my boyfriend can predict the winner of the Superbowl. I do, however, believe that Troy Polamalu can fly.