I was at some kind of high school football game. I don't know anything about football, so I'm sure the opening ritual of this game wasn't accurate. There was a team in red jerseys and a team in white. The home team was in white. I felt a certain kinship for both teams. I watched as a young man was picked from the red team to serve some important function, as if the quarterback were chosen anew at the begining of every game, maybe. The man picked was a very all-American-looking guy, short wavy dark hair, lightly tanned skin, square jaw. He was very pleased to be chosen. The audience cheered that he was chosen, but there was something odd about their reaction. It made me feel that they were laughing behind their hands, as if they were only pleased because they wanted white to win and thought this young man would do a bad job.
Before I could really analyze the audience's reaction, I was down at the other end of the field, where the principal was giving a pep talk, of sorts, to the white team. They were seated around a conference table. There was a young man from the white team, with shaggy blond hair, outside in a hallway. [No, the setting was not consistent with a football field]. He was talking to some other people outside. They had featured earlier in the dream but I can't remember their exact roles now. One of them was some kind of strategy planner for white team -- not a player, but a thinker. The others were drug pushers. The strategy planner was trying to buy. The white team member was straight-laced and anti-drug. He was just out there to get the strategy planner to come in before he got in trouble.
The principal was giving an anti-drug speech to the players. It was one of those 'don't do it or I'll expel you' things. For some reason, it made me exceedingly angry. The principal was a big, heavy guy with white hair and a short beard, and he struck me as totally fatuous, self-absorbed. I felt my fingers grinding into the leather of a binder I was holding, as I tried to keep my peace. I knew the two people were in the hallway, and I wanted them to come in before they got in trouble. I was afraid the shaggy blond man was going to get in trouble, even though he was only trying to help his friend.
My anger at the principal mounted as he went on. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. i marched to the head of the table and screamed at him, "You are the reason that people do drugs! You are the cause! Don't you get it?" His fat face looked shocked by my outburst, then smug, like a defensive mask falling over it. I could tell he wasn't going to understand anything I said, that my outburst was only going to confirm in his mind the justice of his cause and his actions.
I woke up there. I'm going back to bed now.