March 26, 1997 Wednesday
Every time I dream in the roughly the last month there are several dreams I remember pieces to. Then is always one dream I remember very well. Let me tell you about the outstanding one from last night.
It was still exhibition season in the majors, and I am trying out of the Chicago Cubs. I knew I would be cut soon, so before one last game I asked the manager if I could go to Wrigley Field a little early (you know: walk the park, sign some autographs, soak it in).
The dream transitioned to the last period of the day, World History, and I went up to Mr. Johnston ask him if I can leave early to go up to Chicago, a few hours travel to the northeast. As I am going to my locker Mr. Mavetz and Mr. Curran come up to me. The larger Mr. Mavetz thrusts a piece of paper at me. It was a test that had been cheated on–and it had my name on it. Now, it barely looked anything like my signature, but they were convinced it was mine (I got a very good look at it, and have reproduced it below to the left).
There was a chair behind me, so I sat down, content I would be found innocent. There has, in the meantime, gathered a large crowd around me in a semi-circle, numbering at least two hundred people. I have my notebook with me, so I start to thumb through it for an example of my authentic signature, but I can’t come across any as I flip the pages back and forth.
Mr. Mavetz was now standing before me, and said, “Is this your signature?” I reply to him, looking up, “It is my name, but it is not signed by me.”
With that statement I received a large, mocking cheer from the crowd. Sidney now appeared, and was working her way though the crowd, to finally stand in the front row.
I had had enough. I stood and addressed the crowd, saying, “Look at me! Am I now Gulliver standing before the Yahoos?” (the scene was very similar to the ending of the Gulliver’s Travels TV film)
And then my alarm went off.
The authentic me over here,