Dreaming is such fun.  Sometimes they float away, unknown.  Not last night.

Imagine an ice hockey arena … everybody on skates, and a big red net for scoring goals.  Okay, you don’t have to imagine:

In my version of things, the skates remain, but no hockey sticks and puck.  Just a boy standing alone about five metres in front of the net, holding a basketball.  No goalkeeper.

The opponents are nowhere to be seen, except for one player way off in the corner to the left – a girl.

The holder of the basketball is smiling.  It’ll be so easy to score a goal.

The girl way in the corner pumps her legs furiously, skating towards the net.  The ball is looping in a high arc.  She throws herself into the air and nudges the ball away with her fingertips!  Silence in the arena … and then an explosion of cheering.

After the game, I climb over the boards onto the ice.  A TV reporter is interviewing the hero girl.  I wait.

And now my turn.

How close did you come to the ball?

A silly dreaming question, since she had tapped the ball away from the goal.

The girl spoke hesitantly, with her father standing nearby.  I couldn’t hear what she said.

Please speak louder.  I have a hearing problem.  I’m 77.

She said a few more words and then her father put his hand on her shoulder and started leading her away.

He turned to me and mentioned a long scientific formula, and suggested I talk to someone at an address on ________ Street.  (I can’t remember the name)

***

And there you have it

Makes perfect sense to me