Forse più tardi... | Thank goodness the abusive Inzaghi dream below was an exception in my recent trend of wildly romantic and adventurous dreams with my favourite men, real or imaginary. And thank goodness last night's dream came after half a night of sleeplessness out of concern for today's Sant'Ambrogio re-enactment. The dream was on that sweetly emotional line, though more realistic. Well, yes, isn't it realistic that I might be following as a reporter the Italian soccer team on a bus charity tour? OK, the premise takes a tiny little bit of suspension of disbelief, but we were behaving realistically. I was myself, they were themselves, I didn't have a relationship with anyone. I remember meeting Inzaghi, Pirlo and Gattuso (why AC Milan? OK, I know, but why not the scrumptious Buffon?) and of course Donadoni. Therefore, in the dream I was not above my usual crushes, but I behaved really really like a professional. Although it was a fun bunch and they were very relaxed doing this charity tour, so I felt at ease too. We were travelling in this big bus, and maybe also living in it as though it was a motorhome, and we ate all together at long tables. Gattuso wore a peculiar hat and he forgot it on the chair, so I had to run after him waving the hat. The high point was Inzaghi sitting beside me while we were travelling, and chatting without a care in the world, and then the close encounter with Donadoni in the kitchen. I came in looking for something and he was already there. I asked him - can't remember what it was, the salt or a plate or something - and inadvertently called him Roberto, so relaxed he was. I immediately realized, and "I'm so sorry, Mr. Donadoni", but he grinned: "No, it's OK, (insert real name here)," and I just could not wait to tell everybody I was on a first-name basis with him... |