THIS. IS. JEOPARDY!

I can’t believe I actually made it as a contestant on “Jeopardy: Extreme Bowling Edition!”
The stage was setup like Nickelodeon’s GUTS with action sports and obstacle courses all over. There were colorful spotlights that swayed all over the stage and between the contestants and the rowdy audience.

I was geared up: knee pads, elbow pads, helmet, ugly chunky sneakers, and my bowling gloves of course. When it was my turn, I approached the lane and took a good hard look at it. It was almost impossible to get any ball to go through this abstract lane. It was a normal bowling lane at first but half way down it cut short. The other half of the bowling lane was about a quarter of the size of a regular lane, swervey like the Amalfi Coast, rigid, and two feet to the right of the first half of the lane.

I couldn’t think logically about this so I just threw that ball with the all of the little upper body strength I had and hoped for the best. I threw the bowling ball so hard that my body flew backwards onto a cushion on the wall. Suddenly the spot lights get crazier and Alex Trebek is shouting something at me.

“Did I get it?” I thought.

No. But apparently the rules are that when a contestant uses so much strength that their bodies fly backwards, you have a chance of winning a really big prize. However, you have to be able to throw your body back a second time while attempting to bowl the ball down the ridiculous bowling lane. I thought there was no way I could possibly do it again and it was never accomplished ever before on, “Jeopardy: Extreme Bowling Edition!”

I was up again. No logic involved whatsoever. I shut my eyes and threw the ball with all my might. Again, my body flew back and slammed against the cushion on the wall. Everyone went nuts! I couldn’t believe it either. The ball went nowhere but I managed to win an all expenses paid trip to Aruba!

What do you drive?

Spring time means one thing in my family: baseball season.

I arrived at the Yankee Stadium parking lot just as the first pitch of the first inning was being thrown. The fresh, crisp, spring air cleared my lungs and the echo of the cheering crowd clogged my ears.

I stepped out of my supersonic, turbo-jet: the Concord, (yep, I flew my Concord to the Yankee game), and walked into the stadium.

Next thing I know the game is over and I’m walking back to my ride.

There was a major blizzard that hit the parking lot and my Concord was under a mountain of snow and had slid into the cars I had parked next to because of strong winds.

I felt so bad that my plane crashed into the neighboring cars…

That was enough feeling bad so I went started my engine and flew for five seconds and landed on my sunny front lawn of some amazing, big mansion.

Dinner and a Murder on 35th Street

My sister was hosting a dinner party some of her friends in our apartment. I hadn’t met any of these friends of hers before and didn’t bother asking how she knew them. We were all on our second or third drinks, it was a pleasant crowd.

I followed my sister into the kitchen; it was time for dessert! I was going to help her serve it to the guests.

She was leaned against the counter looking down, so angrily, as if she had just gotten into an argument with someone. I was surprised and asked her what was wrong.

Without answering my question, she handed me a pair of scissors.

“The girl with the black hair, wearing the teal shirt..” she said.
“Yeah? What about her?”, I asked impatiently.

She came close to my face, handed me the scissors, like a drug deal, and whispered, “Take these, and stab her with it.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, confused.
“Just do it, don’t think about it,” she said.

So I didn’t think about it.

I came to the kitchen to help serve our happy crowd dessert, and left the kitchen with a pair of scissors to stab and kill the dark-haired girl with the teal shirt.

As I turned to exit the kitchen, she stood there, smiling, asking if she could help.
I turned to look at my sister with a look of concern, “She’s so nice, why do I have to kill her?” I thought.

My sister gave me the go-ahead.

I went ahead. I killed her.

But don’t worry, we did end up having dessert.

Chain Smoker

Intro: I had this dream when I was in high school. Also, I don’t smoke.


I was with a group of friends from one of those extra curricular activity clubs (W.A.C.C. for those of you who would know). We gathered at school an hour or so before school began and were planning our escape. We were ditching for the day.

We got out of the building okay. Walking through the school parking lot in the back, everybody was calm except me. I was a little paranoid that we would get caught. The school’s parking lot turned into video game setting at a dock. There were crates, hay, cargo, all sorts of props that reminded me of what any port would have looked like in the early 1900s or Street Fighter. It turned foggy and dark.

The group continued walking for miles; it seemed we didn’t have much of a plan. I start to get a bad feeling and told everyone we should go back. It was quiet, nothing was happening around us, so naturally my plea was ignored. We kept walking through the dark fog, in between the props. I felt like at any moment, people appear from behind the crates and cargo with steal poles and big muscles ready to attack us.

I was so paranoid and scared that I thought this would be a good time to pick up smoking. What better opportunity? I found a spot behind a crate so no one would catch me smoking for the first time.

In my left hand I had four cigarettes, once in between each finger.
In my right hand I had two fat cigars. I lit up. All at once.

It was as if smoking was eating, and I hadn’t eaten in weeks.

I inhaled the tobacco from each cigarette, one after another, then to my right hand, inhaled the cigars, and finally exhaled. I wouldn’t let my breath go until I inhaled the tobacco from all of them, in a pattern. I was in such frenzy that when I finally looked up, I noticed I lost my friends in the fog. They must just be up ahead, I told myself.

No sign of them. I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything. The place was dead in sound and activity, except for the dense fog strolling along in the street lights.

I hid behind a crate for sometime, cold, scared, and smoking.

Finally, I hear the sound of an engine and a familiar voice. My friends found a van.
I threw all of my cigarettes and cigars on the ground and jumped into the moving van with the sliding side door.

Apparently others were lost in the fog too. I got in the van and we continued the search to find the rest of our group.

Chandler Bing

I was sitting in a hotel lobby with Ross, Rachel, Pheobe, Joey, and Monica – yes, the cast of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.. The conversation topic was intense and serious. Everyone was in a somber mood and torn.

The decision was final.

“Okay let’s do it,” someone said, “we have to kill Chandler.”

We walked up to his hotel room. He was so happy to see us, slow to realize we weren’t as happy to see him.

We grabbed him and tied him to a chair with rope that had a fuse that would go off to set him on fire.

Chandler, confused, said, “I don’t know what’s going on here but I guess if you all think I should die.. you’re my best friends.. if you think I have to die, then I’ll die.”

We were all shaking and weeping nervously. No one wanted to kill him. But we had to. He had done Rachel wrong in some way but it wasn’t clear.

As we left the room for Chandler to die, he told us he loved us all. The group was in tears and heartbroken that they had to take it to this level. As we walked down the staircase back to the lobby, we could hear Chandler screaming in agony. He was certainly on fire now. We could hear him from the lobby now. Everyone was crying hysterically.

“I can’t let this happen!” Rachel says suddenly. “It’s not worth it, I forgive him!”

Rachel runs up to Chandlers room and sets him free. He comes to the lobby and the group hugs one another. Everyone is apologizing and crying at the same time.

Then out of nowhere two black Escalades pull up to the hotel. An FBI agent approaches us, “Where is Chandler Bing’s body?”

“We decided not to kill him,” says Joey.

Impatiently, the FBI agent hands us a briefcase with Chandler’s belongings and drives away.

Russian Invasion

Night of 1.17.2010


It was a very stressful day in the office. I was looking over print ads for approval, getting last minute changes made. I was in a position I currently strive to be in, in the advertising industry. I was on my feet, collaborating with colleagues, brainstorming, using my brain in general. Lunchtime passed and I was still hard at work.

Around three-o-clock I went out for a walk to distress and grab a bite to eat. The lunchtime crowd had died down. In the distance looking west on 42nd street from 3rd Avenue, I saw some sort of commotion. I acknowledged the oddness of the number of people outside than there normally would be but disregarded it due to my hectic day and I really just wanted to eat something.

As I’m in the café deciding what I want to order I sense a nervous tone amongst the people inside. Suddenly people group together tightly, holding hands looking for companionship and head east. The commotion from the west side had caught up to us. I step outside the café, look up to see the once blue sky, now filled with Russian bomber planes. There were so many of them, wings touching corner to corner. I looked around me. There were Russian soldiers on foot with machine guns and rocket launchers waiting for opposition.

A group of about 10 men and woman, all older than me, looked to me for guidance. I guided the group for a few minutes and spotted a tunnel for hideout until I could decide what to do. The group and I were all in talks of confusion of what was happening.

The light at the end of the tunnel was darkened by a Russian soldier and his rocket launcher. I screamed and waved my hands to signal that we were civilians. I saw the expression on his face so clearly, so empty. He had a mission to fulfill. I screamed and my eyes began to water.

We were dust.

The Lion King

Intro: A fairytale with a sad ending, if one ever existed.

A well respected, smart, wise lion ruled the kingdom. He was unmarried and had a beautiful golden coat and deep green eyes. I was a commoner, human.

We were in love. Real love, our souls matched. For years we were good friends. We acknowledged our strong connection yet there was nothing we could do.

He was under immense pressure from the kingdom to marry and have an heir. He would never do so, and they didn't understand why.

We were openly spending time together in the kingdom's garden one spring afternoon.

"Why can't we just be together?" I pleaded in a whisper.
"You know I can't. I want nothing more than to be with you and to be human again. For me to be human I have to give up my crown. I can't do that to the people, its selfish. They need me."

This wasn't new information to me, I silently wept anyway.

"You are the love of my life, and I can never be with anyone else. I will never marry in respect to our love. But please understand, this is my path. I was chosen to be king. If I leave my thrown, I turn human. I'm already in my 90s, I will die as soon as I turn human. What good will I be to you then?"

I hugged him tightly and told him I'd never love anyone else as I loved him.
I left the garden, walking through the air filled with scents of lavender and rose.

I never saw him again.

The King of Pop

Intro: It's the oldest dream I can remember. It takes place in the only shopping mall that existed in the city I grew up in at the time, The Naugatuck Valley Mall. I was really obsessed with Michael Jackson and his movie Moonwalker. I used to cry watching this movie. On to the dream..

My mom was getting a perm at the salon on the mall, as she normally did in waking life. My dad, grandmother, and sister were waiting for her by the water fountain located inbetween the hair salon and Filene's. The water fountain was so powerful, loud, and blue. I could see thousands of wishes thrown into the fountain. I was bored so I asked my dad for a quarter to throw into the fountain. He wouldn't give me one and I didn't understand why not. I was an annoying kid so I threw a hissy fit and started to cry. All I wanted was some stupid change to throw into the fountain.

And then, it happened. Just like Jesus was appearing out of thin air, a bright shining light came towards me. I saw a human figure, the light was dimming. There he was. Freaking Michael Jackson!!!!

Softly he said, "Hi Jalah! What's the matter? Why are you crying?" He was wearing all black leather with accents of metallic bolts and studs.
"I just wanted a quarter to throw into the fountain..." I said pathetically.
"Is that all you want? Well here you go."

From his change holder on his belt he released 3 brand new shiny quarters that flew into the air. He spun around and stopped facing me grabbing his crotch in his signature Michael move, catching the quarters mid air. I was astonished. My mind was exploding.

He handed me the quarters as my eyes filled with tears of happiness. I could hardly catch my breath to say anything. I walked to him and gave him a hug, still unable to speak and he hugged me back. He was starting to walk away back into the white light of God. Suddenly, he stops. He makes a face as if he forgot something.

"Oh, and you can have these too."
He released about 500 dollars worth of quarters from his change holder on his belt.

I nearly died.

FYI: I was probably about 6 years old when I had this dream.

War of 1812

Night of 1.18.2010

The atmosphere was calm, the summer heat and mountain views astonished everyone. I had to remind myself that this wasn't a pleasant scene, that this was a war and I was about to watch people die right in front of my eyes. I wasn't a soldier in this dream, I was amongst the few civilians who managed find safety with the Americans. The war ship I was on was cruising slowly down the river. The Americans were working fast, getting their ammunition together. The fight scene was approaching.

I looked to my immediate right and saw a group of about 50 British soldiers on top of a hill that sloped down into a bright grassy valley. They looked stressed, tired, sweaty, and had little hope left in them. I look beyond the valley on top of the hill where the hundreds of American soldiers stood. Some of them chatted amongst themselves while others were practicing their long distance shots at the Red Coats.

The ship dropped anchor and some of us got off the ship to go on foot. It was hardly dangerous now with the British low on numbers. I was about 20 feet away from diminishing group of British soldiers when I began to hear their agony. Nightmarish screams escaping the remaining Red Coats. It was only now that any of us noticed what their real cause of death was. Their bodies were deteriorating alive. These men were watching their body parts bubble and burn. Black like burnt toast as their white eyes bulged out as they screamed in absolute horror.

It was an airborne gas. The confusion was immense amongst the Americans who were on the ship with me. Some of us were already being affected by the gas. Some were already dying. The black corpses were piled on top of one another and smoke was rising from the bodies.

I get news that my high school friend, Michelle, had just died from exposure to the gas. Suddenly, in my arms, was her baby sister. I looked for shelter and found a modern bathroom. There were dying soldiers laying on the bathroom floor, I walked over them into the shower tub and closed the shower curtain behind me so we didn't have to look at the dying men.

There was a phone ringing in the shower. I answered. It was Michelle's father.

"Hi Jalah, how is the sleep over going?" he said in a calm voice.
Scared and nervous I said "Look. I don't know what's going on and I don't know how to say this but Michelle is dead. I have the baby here in my arms, we're safe for now. I'll get her home." My voice was shaking. I hung up the phone and shut my eyes to think of a happier place...