Picasso and death in the afternoon.

I dreamt I was in the middle of a fierce one on one basketball game with Pablo Picasso. Actually, I'm not sure it was him but he sure looked like Pablo. He was about 60, bald on top with gray hair on the sides. He was wearing a white wifebeater (sando) and striped boxers. I don't remember if he was wearing shoes or not. The bball game was in someone's garage and the basketball hoop was just a cheap ceramic punch bowl or some kind of flower pot on a ledge or a high shelf. We had to be careful with our shots which were mostly layups. We didn't want our hoop to come crashing down. Anyway, it was a tight game. The old man was ahead by a point. Whoever got to 5 points first, won. It suddenly occurred to me that I had to win this game somehow. That there was more to this game than just winning or losing... I had to try real hard to beat this old man who was just so quick in his defense and shot making. I had to win because I was playing against Death himself. Shades of Ingmar! It was a long struggle in a long afternoon. We were dead even at 4 all. Somehow, I made a reverse layup into the 'basket' and the ball stayed in. I won!!!