As a boy I was an actor in the motion picture Jaws. Not the original but the sequel, Jaws 2. It wasn’t big role in fact it was a “bit” part. This pun sent the nameless, faceless strangers in my dream into a fit of laughter, rib clutching and thigh slapping. “’Bit’ part, did you hear that?” a few repeated, choking on hysteria.
A ticker tape parade was held in my honour and I rode down the valley of heroes in a Cadillac convertible sitting up high on the shining black metal skin with my feet resting on the leather seat and waving to a cheering crowd. Buckets of confetti transformed the mild spring day into a raging blizzard and long ribbons of ticker tape slithered through the air like flying snakes.
A marching band blared and I woke to the opening trumpets of Tchaikovsky’s fourth coming from the clock-radio on my night stand. I hit the snooze button and closed my eyes, groping in the darkness for the door that opened to the twisted, shadowy corridors and enigmatic chambers where obscure characters told better jokes.