Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Last night, I dreamt that I was Cristiano Ronaldo. I regularly have strange dreams. This one took the prize. Many a famous person, athletes, writers, philosophers, politicians, you name it, have appeared in my dreams but I've yet to dream of being one of them. How did I know I was Cristiano Ronaldo, the Portuguese national who the Gods have been showering in good fortune for the past year and a bit; the highest paid right-winger ever to grace a football pitch; the new Real Madrid winger who was bought from the mighty Manchester United for 80 million pounds. The most any team has ever, ever paid for a player. How did I know I was him and not merely dreaming of him. I'll tell you how I knew - the feeling. I have never felt like I did the night I dreamt I was Cristiano Ronaldo - never. It was a fleeting dream. I, as Cristiano Ronaldo, walked into a diamond studded room. I as Cristiano Ronaldo, felt a little anxious at first, that feeling one has when you're still young enough to feel momentarily unsure of your surroundings. Then everyone in the room who was sitting down stood up. The crowd of people standing parted. Then, I, as Cristiano Ronaldo, remembered that I am no ordinary boy anymore. No. I am the highest paid footballer ever. I am an empire. Then later in the dream, though fleeting it had a few scenes, one of which I as Cristiano Ronaldo fell asleep and had a dream - the dream within a dream scene in which I couldn't kick the football. I had two left feet. I could not live up to the hype, the paycheque and that's when I as Cristiano Ronaldo woke up, sweating and ill. Then I, as myself, woke up, relieved that it was all a dream.