After eating a little dinner, watching a little TV, and
catching up on a little work, I hit the hay. So, this is
twenty-nine?
Before long I was fast asleep and found myself
in that place between space and time – dreaming. In this
dream I’m only thirteen years old, standing on the
gymnasium stage after the eighth-grade talent show. The show has
already ended and they have presented the awards. Proudly I
display the first place trophy, which I can’t believe I’ve
won, as a reporter for the local paper snaps a picture. Most of
the attendees have already made their way home, leaving the
basketball court littered with empty metal folding chairs and
scattered with discarded Xeroxed programs. Only a few straggling
kids, ones who took part in the show, and the parents of the
stragglers remain. Mom and Dad step up on the stage to
congratulate me with Carl riding Dad piggyback style. I’m
holding the trophy proudly as my father gives me a bear hug. Mom
readies us for a picture, telling me to turn the trophy so that
she can read the inscription through the camera. As I turn the
trophy, it slips in my hands and I accidentally drop it over the
edge of the stage. We all watch as, in slow motion, the trophy
smashes onto the hardwood floor below breaking into a thousand
pieces.
With the smashing of the trophy the dream
suddenly changes, and now seems somehow familiar, a scene I’ve
dreamt before. Full grown, I am sitting on a hard metal chair,
two uniformed police officers strap me into a straitjacket; one
of the officers locks my ankles in. Now I remember – yes –
this is the dream where I escape from the straitjacket while
hanging in mid air. But something doesn’t feel right.
Something is wrong.
The straitjacket fits very tight, and for a
moment I struggle. The police officer looks up at me, and for
the first time I see his face – Mr. Lee! He smiles a smile
that chills me to the bone, saying, "Well, James, you’re
not quite out of the running yet – you know a man trades in
his dreams for security at age thirty," My heart starts to
pound; something is definitely wrong with this dream.
A beautiful blond woman steps onto the
platform carrying a burning torch. I can feel the heat coming
from the torch and hear the sound of the wind-blown flame. Once
the woman is close enough for me to see her face, I know her –
it’s Gina! "Good luck, magic-man," she says,
lighting the rope on fire. "We make a great team, don’t
we?" Then she smiles, blows me a kiss, turns and walks off
the stage.
