I’d hangglided into what seemed like a costco or a walmart, probably walmart, an open roof garden section.
Rogue (well an unspecified analgulous company) was hosting an event in a front room, and the parking lot.
Events, open to the public, it was team entrys. The event being held over a few weekends.
I got there late. I entered by myself, not eligible for team prizes, but having just witnessed a clusterfuck of a team doing terribly on a push/pull/sled drag for laps event with what looked like an oversize red metallic fireman’s battering ram I went in anyway.
They told me I was ineligible for prizes, but any event records I set would stand.
Working as a mover, having moved pianos with less effort and with less guys than the clusterfuck performance I’d just witnessed I do that event…and solo smash the record of laps. The team members had been getting in each others way acting as brakes to the guys on the opposite side of the implement.
1 record to me.
Next log press, with this weird felt like soft material. A new equipment breakthrough! Bumper plates…but more like a beanbag. Only one per team could step up for this, and most barely got, or failed the opener which was about 120…lbs not kg.
I smoked it, weird balanced 135-150 stepping forward around lockout, got a good lift call anyway, then loaded it with all the plates they’d brought.
They called it 200 or 205. I cleaned it and smoked it perfectly strict, so fast it looked like a jerk.
The events host company big wig was angry at this. He stressed that the event is a 1rm event so that’s the record.
Trash talking him back I told him “what is this a mail order 165lb weight set, I could rep this all day, 1 rep event my ass”.
(I hadn’t even used a continental or a jerk, have maxed their equipment super strict.)
I recleaned it, and preceded to rep it overhead all day. 10 reps making eye contact with that big wig, debating whether to start cleaning in addition to the presses (1c+many p vs c+p+c+p indefinitely). I stayed pressing, then started the show, like a York exhibition, or the time a weightlifter stork posed his medal winning jerk.
I balance on each leg one at a time for a rep, hit an overhead squat, then an overhead left leg pistol squat. I go for a stroll pressing each step, stop at the other side of the area and started repping again.
Soon an insane dude that thought he was an orangutan was singing a song and I joined him in it (I’d have written the lyrics if I still recalled them, it was a Robin Hood like folk ballad mocking the bigwigs weakness), then offering him the bar to press for a few reps, which he did also going off the record scale, then I started pressing again.
The big wig in the booth was dumbfounded, his event was very different than he’d anticipated.
Amusing dream. A lot of pizza was eaten throughout it. It’s possible I was a teenage mutant ninja turtle without realizing it.