I used to be a vivid dreamer. I don’t know what a psychoanalyst would say about this, but I had a constant companion in my nighttime capers – a penguin named Pingy. He wore his hat backwards and always had on sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes. He was a bad seed, that Pingy. One of those affable, fun-loving friends who always seems to get you into trouble. Half of my dream life was spent rescuing him… often from the law. It has been a long time since he has visited me. Life has a way of clouding out frivolous dreams with its deadlines and demands.
When I was a boy, I dreamed of being a third baseman for the Cincinnati Reds. Somehow, Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, Joe Morgan and Dave Concepcion, although in their forties, would still be All-Stars and welcome this rookie into the fold. Together we would form a dynamic team – The Big Red Machine, Part II. Fame, riches, women… they would all be mine. At that age, I likely had no idea what the women were for, but I understood better as I got older.
For the record, a vivid dreamer who is also a sleep-talker can be a dangerous combination for a newlywed. Yes, we are still married despite this.
In all my dreams, I never dreamed it would be like this. Read More