But this dream was a little different. I was me, not some dude playing ball for the Yankees. And I was funny. Not funny as I aspire to be here, which is really not very funny at all. But REALLY funny. Like Eddie Murphy back when he was funny...funny.
I was a stand up comedian doing my shtick in front of a loving crowd. And when I woke up I realized that the me in the dream was actually funny. Like someone I would pay to see tell jokes.
I can't tell if the jokes that I told in my dream were ripped off from someone far more creative than I, or if they were actually born in my subconscious. I really don't know.
I'll spare you the actual jokes, but they were about drinking and my cats. Two subjects I know more about than just about anything. So maybe they were my own. Like I said, I really don't know.
Oh, and I realize that hitting home runs to an adoring crowd at Yankee Stadium and telling jokes to an adoring crowd at some smelly comedy club are really the same thing and that probably says a lot about my own need for some kind of bullshit approval from complete strangers or real folks in my life.
But don't we all want that? Just me?
Note: Remember to play the Bug-Eyed Trivia Challenge every day. Didja ever hear the one about the guy who never quite figured out what to do with his life?