I had a dream

Honest, I really did have a dream this morning that left me shaken to my core.

In the dream, I somehow had access to rooms at Yankee Stadium where George Steinbrenner and his "baseball people" were meeting to assess possible trades. I got a look at a binder that had several trade options listed--who we'd get and who we'd give up.

Unfortunately, I can't remember a lot of the details. But one possible trade was to get Carl Pavano back in pinstripes.

My dream self (looking suspiciously like me circa 1988) was appalled. To be fair, there was another pitcher also under consideration who was just as bad (the name lost to my alcohol-damaged memory), but the Pavano trade made me go marching right up to old George to object.

"Mr. Steinbrenner," I said in agitation, "you can't bring back Pavano! He's terrible! And you shouldn't trade away your young players for any reason!"

George looked at me, slightly puzzled, and replied, "Look, I have three different people telling me that Pavano has adopted a new system, and that he's a changed man."

Well. Three different people (Curly, Moe, and Larry, perhaps). Who was I to convince George otherwise? How could I point to the names of the young tradebaiters and prove it was better to keep them then chase terrible pitchers?

So I adopted a more respectful tone. "Sir, really. I'm just speaking out of concern for the team. We've been burned by Pavano before. And the young kids really do look like they could be stars." There were, by the way, lists of who we'd give up to get Pavano, or for the other lousy pitcher, and for somebody else I can't remember but who didn't seem very important. At the top of the list for one trade was the boldfaced name "Kelly" at the top of a list of prospects. Was it the immortal Pat? I don't know. Maybe.

George and I started walking through several rooms where people worked quietly at desks as we talked. I kept up the respectable bit, calling him "sir" and "Mr. Steinbrenner" as I tried to win the argument. Albeit very politely.

For my troubles, I was spotted through a large plate glass window by some reporters, one of whom said, "Oh, there's John M again, kissing up to Steinbrenner. What a wuss."

And then I woke up.

What does it all mean? I don't know. Obviously, my subconscious is alarmed by the trade deadline. (I read on ESPN's site that "the Yankees really wanted Marchado." OMG.) I don't want to give away any kids. I don't want Carl Pavano or his modern-day equivalent.

But in the dream, George didn't get swayed by my heartfelt case. Three of his baseball people knew otherwise.

I'm really scared now.