"Last night I had this dream...."

    That statement in conversation invariably invokes thoughts of, "Oh great, just get me through this." or "Go ahead but just make it quick." So here goes... 

    I play a bit of golf. I'm a fair weather hacker but I enjoy it and it's fun to get out with my buddies. That having been said I have these recurring golf dreams. Usually it involves me in a strange living room or dining room, trying to hit my golf ball out some narrow doorway or window off of the carpet. There's furniture around, glassware and china cabinets the walls are close and there's no room to swing. Well last night I had this dream...

    It starts with me in the middle of this lush green fairway, the weather is beautiful and I'm aware that I'm on a very expensive golf course. I'm preparing to hit my second shot, the lie is good and I check the yardage marker, it reads 52 yards. I decide on a lob wedge. I'm no wizard with any of my clubs but this one is especially difficult for me to hit. When I look down the fairway towards the green, it looks more like 200 yards than 52, and I yell to whoever I was golfing with, "I think these yardage markers are wrong!"

    I change to a club better suited to the longer shot but look down and my golf ball is no longer there. In the back of my mind I'm aware that there are golfers breathing down my neck, and I'm trying to keep up with the group in front and the people I'm playing with (who I don't even know, by the way.) I reach into my golf bag to try to sneak a ball out without anybody noticing because by not cheating you're only cheating yourself. I manage to retrieve a ball from my bag, conscious of the fact I may get caught. Dropping it on the fairway, I notice that the grass has become longer and the ball is dirty and scuffed up (I like playing with clean balls... who doesn't?) When I drop it, it rolls down a hill ending up in longer grass and a disastrous lie. I filch another filthy ball from my bag, drop it and hurriedly have a whack at it. 

     Now the real frustration sets in. The ball comes up way short of the green and lands on some plywood flooring in a room of a new house that I'm painting. There are sheets of cardboard on the floor and I'm slipping and sliding on them, desperately looking for some grass that I can drop my ball on, so I can make the next shot. I find these tiny tufts of grass growing here and there out of the plywood and I nestle my ball in one of them. The grass in these tufts is fairly long, I have the lob wedge back in my hands and I'm fully aware of all the people waiting for me.

    Determined to prove to myself that I can use this challenging club and overcome the increasing irritation, I prepare to make my shot when a wall pops up in front of me with two doorways in it. I'm lining up the ball to hopefully hit it through one of the doorways when they suddenly both close. I go over to the first door and look for a doorstop to try and prop the door open with. By some miracle I find one but the space under the door is too high and it passes right over the wooden doorstop. Out of nowhere appears this little girl who proceeds to tell me that I need to cut a piece of wood to raise the doorstop up to keep the door open.By now I'm agitated to the point of breaking and still cognizant of the waiting golfers.I'm thinking,"Who is this little girl? I know she's right but doesn't she realize I'm trying to make a golf shot here? I don't have time to cut a piece of wood."

    Now I have a brainstorm.I try the doorstop on the second door and it works, propping it open, I glance at the little girl and think, "HAH! I made it work without cutting any wood." I head back to my ball now to make my shot. Intimidated by the doorway, the club, the crowd, the lie of the ball, the girl, the slippery cardboard, and my escalating exasperation I draw the club back to make my swing. Any amateur golfer knows that point in your backswing when you pull the club back and just hope for the best. This was magnified tenfold but at this point I had to make the shot.

      Taking my swing, I make horrible contact with the ball. It kind of slices to the right, low and along the plywood flooring but does, however, manage to make it through the doorway. The ball rolls off the edge of the floor and falls about twenty yards below me, close to the green and the waiting golfers. Sweet relief ! It wasn't pretty but it worked.

      I'm not sure if there is such thing as dream interpretation but I'm absolutely sure there is such thing as dream frustration and the parallels between golf and life. I also know that I had the golf nightmare to end all golf nightmares and if I have another one it'll be too soon.