Subconscious

In the rapidly-approaching-dementia department comes the following:

Two nights ago, I had a poker dream.  I’m at my normal $1/$2 NL ring game, but for some reason Daniel Negreanu was sitting to my right.  I know what you’re thinking.  True, at least he’s not to my left.

Anyway, during one of the hands, three people get to see a flop:  Me, Kid Poker, and random-dream-NPC.  (Kudos to you geeks who immediately knew what NPC was.)  I’m holding pocket 6’s and the flop comes Q65 rainbow.  There’s some random betting and such, all three people see the board pair the 5 on the turn.

Granted, this hand is strikingly similar to that recently shown on High Stakes Poker.  But that’s where the similarity ends.  After the turn, all three players somehow get it all-in.  I show my full house, Negreanu shows Q7, and NPC shows 47o or some such G-Rob-esque holding.

The river comes, and it’s a third 5.

Immediately, commotion takes over the table.  “What a suckout!!!”  “Live poker is rigged.”

I see the pot slide towards Negreanu and regret my luck.  I tell him that he’s the luckiest player ever, and then I direct my admonishments towards the NPC wondering what the hell he was doing in the hand.  Even in dreams I get bad beat.

Then I wake up.

It is only then, when my conscious mind takes over, that I realize that the pot SHOULD HAVE COME MY WAY!!!!  I had 6’s over 5’s, not 5’s over 6’s.

Lord help me if I didn’t try to get back into that dream and contest the pot.