I recently experienced one of those rare, exhilarating dreams. I was playing one-on-one against Shaq, and I could do no wrong. Afterward, he was showering me with compliments.
Editor’s note:?Dennis Volkert is on vacation. This is a column from August 2009.
My dreams are usually mundane.
1. There’s a tornado coming, and I don’t have a thing to wear.
2. It’s time for midterm exams, and I realize there’s a class on my schedule I never attended.
3. A tornado has destroyed my class schedule, and I don’t have a thing to wear.
I never seem to have the dreams other people have that seem to involve gleeful impossibilities.
“I won ‘American Idol’!”
“I was the new judge on ‘American Idol’!”
That sort of thing.
I recently experienced one of those rare, exhilarating dreams. For a while, anyway.
I was playing one-on-one against Shaq, and I could do no wrong. Afterward, he was showering me with compliments.
“You’re a tall guy,” he told me, despite his 12-inch height advantage.
Soon, he was driving me around in a pickup truck. As we rode through the countryside, we cracked jokes and engaged in philosophical conversations. He continued to tell me how dominant I was in the paint.
We saw a convenience store and decided to stop and get some munchies. That’s when the dream dream began to unravel.
Once we were inside the store, I realized they sold only two food items:?nachos and doughnuts.
Doughnuts didn’t sound appealing. It seemed like the wrong time of day for that, even though I had no idea what time of day it was.
I saw a woman at the counter, who motioned me over.
“Would you like to purchase one of our promotional items?” she said as I approached. “Maybe a doughnut-shaped throw pillow?” she said, pointing to a large display in the corner.
“Those aren’t pillows,”?I said. “They’re innertubes!”
She didn’t believe me, apparently.
“No, they’re pillows,”?she insisted. “Twenty dollars each.”
“Twenty bucks?” I asked. “Is that adjusted for inflation?”
“Can’t even stop making cheap wisecracks in your dreams, can you?” she said.
As I chuckled about my sharp wit, I decided to get a doughnut after all.
“You know, maybe I’ll have a chocolate-covered cake doughnut,”?I said. “Heck, give me four ... uh, do you sell coffee?”
“No,” she said, sounding irritated. “The store is called ‘Nachos and Doughnuts.’ Didn’t you read the sign when you came in?”
“Sign?”?I said. “Who reads signs in dreams?”
At that point I realized Shaq was long gone. He had been traded, apparently.
Just then, I woke up and looked out the window. The tires on my car were gone.
Contact Dennis Volkert at email@example.com.