In June 1999, I blew up my knee in a summer basketball tournament. Tore the ACL, MCL, and a whole bunch of cartilage. Surgery came in July, and it was questionable whether I’d return to play any sports in my upcoming junior year.
My entire identity was wrapped into sports, so I’m understating when I say that me returning to play was critical for my parents and me.
A few months later, Mom and Dad had gotten into magnet therapy to boost their health and alleviate their pain. For background, in magnet therapy, therapeutic magnets are incorporated into clothing or jewelry and placed on the body to harmonize your natural magnetic fields.
Blood flows faster. And healing accelerates.
Dad had had his shoulder replaced the previous April. So, there was a magnetic shoulder wrap. Magnetic bracelets. A mattress slip with magnets. And, of course, a knee wrap for me.
I protested wearing the magnetic knee wrap.
Mom and Dad said I needed to wear it because track season loomed.
We argued. Then compromised. I would wear the wrap only when I slept.
Which I started doing somewhere in early 2000. After a few weeks, though, I’d been traumatized and stopped wearing the stupid magnets but for personal reasons I also needed Mom and Dad not to know I had stopped wearing them.
So, for several months I just lied about wearing it.
Mom and Dad liked these magnets and asked a lot of questions about them.
‘Is the wrap helping? Do you feel better? You think it’s working?’
I dared not speak the truth, so I had to lie.
“Feels great,” I would tell them. “Best my knee’s ever felt. I don’t know what it is but seems like my knee just comes alive at night with these magnets.”
They’d ask if I’d wear the wrap during the day.
“Nah,” I’d say. “Nighttime is the right time. Trust me.”
This dance continued into a Tuesday evening in early March when the three of us were eating dinner together. Track meets were less than a month away and Mom and Dad wanted to ramp my healing.
I was enjoying a bite of pasta when they started digging in with their questions.
Are the magnets helping? Do you think they’re really working? The mattress slip is amazing. Maybe you need one?
I deflected for a few minutes.
‘Should we get you more? An ankle brace? Or wraps for your feet? You think you need more magnets?’
Their questions wouldn’t f*****g stop.
I was frustrated and annoyed and angry with my parents for ever introducing the idea of magnet therapy to me.
“Look,” I snapped. “I hate the magnets. They don’t work, and I haven’t even worn the stupid wrap for months.”
“What?” Mom asked.
“Why?” Dad growled.
“Because,” I mumbled, now wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut.
“Why?” They leaned in on me.
“Doesn’t matter,” I retreated.
“We asked you a question. And you better answer it,” Dad said.
I had no choice. I couldn’t hold out any longer. I needed to come clean and tell the truth.
And the truth was that I wasn’t sleeping in the magnetic knee wrap because every time I did I had a wet dream.
And here’s the thing, because I don’t ever remember my dreams (maybe 10 in my whole life), not only was I coming on myself each night, but I wasn’t even remembering what I was coming about.
Plus, I was 16 and a virgin in every way except of the self-help variety. And now I was waking up sticky and embarrassed and worried that all the nighttime emissions were going to give me tired legs on the track.
Mom continued staring at me. Dad pointed his fork in my direction. A lone noodle dangled from it.
“Fine!” I finally said, my voice near a whisper. “I don’t wear the magnets because every time I do, they give me a wet dream.”
Defeated, I dropped my chin to my chest.
Mom gasped, then chuckled.
Dad didn’t say anything. When I finally looked up at him, he had that big grin spread all across his face.
“Well, I gotta tell you. I’m kinda jealous,” he said.
Friends- I haven’t had a wet dream in 21 years. Sometimes I wish I’d kept that knee wrap.
We love you.
And we’ll see you when we see you.
Nocturnal Emissions