I remember . . .

I was a freshman in college, newly arrived on campus. I didn’t know a soul and felt shy and nervous. Then I met Lenny Kravitz. Lenny was a freshman, too. Hispanic, with a knit cap on his head and baggy jeans, I knew instinctively Lenny was a “bad boy.” But I also knew he was going to be my friend.

I met Lenny in the dorm. This wasn’t your ordinary dorm. A long, slender room, more like a large camp facility or stretch hotel room. All the students lived here. Guys and girls. In one room. The beds were full sized, and each had a solid colored burgundy spread. Beside each bed, a built-in dresser provided space for clothes and a counter top for personal effects. I looked around and felt exposed and awkward. How was I going to live in this place without any privacy?

Lenny said, “Hey, there’s a soccer game going on. Everyone goes to the matches. Let’s go.”

I thought, why not? I wanted to meet people, so I’d have to go where the people were. Lenny and I walked to the field and sat on a rough, elevated concrete slab that offered a good view. I settled in to watch the match and immediately became confused.

The field was like any soccer field, and the ball bore the familiar black and white pattern. But all over the field in seemingly random configurations, two-foot tall posts stuck up from the ground. The players were male and female, some athletic, others obviously not. The game went something like this: a player kicked the ball from the end of the field, like the kick-off in football. All the players immediately took off running, but in every direction and without apparent purpose. When the ball landed, they all hit the ground like soldiers on a battlefield when bullets are flying. Then they’d get up, the ball would be kicked again, and the performance was repeated. I never did figure out any objective to the game, and couldn’t even distinguish one team from the other.

Meanwhile, Lenny grew increasingly flirtatious. He smiled, made thinly veiled comments, and even touched me playfully. Nothing overtly sensual, but just up to the line. (Don’t worry Luke, he didn’t even get to the head-butting or shoulder-biting stage.) I felt uncomfortable, mostly because I thought, This is wrong, because in the future I’m married. But as it turned out, I didn’t have to do anything about it, because Lenny jumped up and ran out onto the soccer field. When the players ran, he ran too. When they hit the deck, he did too. In this fashion he worked his way to the other side of the field, then ran off of it and got in a car with a bunch of shady-looking characters.

I turned to the person next to me and commented, “Lenny shouldn’t be going with those guys. They look like trouble.”

“Oh, that’s just Lenny. He does stuff like that all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

I left the game and returned to the dorm to eat my lunch, which consisted of various foods packed in tupperware dishes. Everyone ate their food in the dorm out of tupperware containers. This seemed somehow odd but expected at the same time. I recognized the only other person in the room as one of the soccer players, a well-built guy with longish blond hair. He was sitting on his bed, and I walked over.

“Hi,” I said, “Are you a sophomore?”

He spoke with a British accent. “No, I’m a freshman. I came to this school from England to learn this kind of soccer.” He was holding one of his tupperware containers up to his face, touching his forehead and cheeks to cool himself off. Crushed pineapple inside the open container spilled out in globs as he touched it to his left cheek. It landed on the counter top beside him, but he seemed oblivious. Just as I was thinking maybe I should clean it up, I woke up and looked at the digital clock.

Almost 8:00 am. I should be getting up. Then I remembered the dream and laughed. I almost never remember the details of my dreams. I wonder if they’re all that strange? And I also wonder what happened to Lenny Kravitz.