“I had the weirdest dream last night,” said Colby.
“I dreamed I was pitching a perfect game in baseball.”
“You don’t even like baseball.”
“I know. It’s crazy. It was in the seventh or eight inning when I realized I was under surveillance by Scotland Yard.”
“Somehow my pitching was part of a plan to steal a huge diamond. In the ninth inning with two outs the police stopped the game by sending a tornado to destroy the stadium,” said Colby.
“I always wondered if the government could control the weather.”
“I don’t know how they did it, but the next thing I know I’m here talking to you,” said Colby.
“Are you expecting me to explain your dream to you?”
Colby looked at the man across from him and frowned. “Come to think of it, I’m not even sure who you are.”
“If you don’t know then I’m not telling.”
Colby had a sudden flash of desperation. “Seriously. Tell me,” he begged.
The man got up and ran out a door. “That’s a mystery you’ll never solve,” he yelled.
Colby woke up in a cold sweat. He wondered why he never had normal dreams.