Now my dreams are smaller. They're more achievable.
One new dream stems from several years of being told that people wanted to be my friends but then, weirdly, never talking to me again. Strange, right? Maybe they all just became suddenly busy. There were a few people that said we should be friends who did end up actually being my friends, but this was mainly because they were forced to be in the same location as me for a while and they developed a kind of Stockholm syndrome. I'll take what I can get.
So now, in my head, instead of me scoring a winning goal in a cup final and running off to hug Ryan Giggs as he stands crippled on the left wing at the age of 56 (honestly, it makes me sick to even think about it), I'm stood in a bar having treated a girl to a lovely night out and a drink or two. I'm resting casually against a wall and she's stood in front of me being all taken aback by my mesmerising charm.
"This has been wonderful," she says, her eyes misting up.
"Yeah, it's been alright," I reply, taking a decent gulp of my beer.
"Maybe I could give you a call tomorrow and we could do it again sometime?" she suggests, an obvious sound of hope in her voice. I down the rest of my pint and let out a sigh before checking the time on my phone. I open up Angry Birds.
"Listen, love," I start, as her eyes widen expectantly. "You're a good laugh and everything, but I really like what we have going on now." Her smile drops away. I kill a pig with one of those birds that blows up when you press the screen.
"Oh..." she sighs.
"Yeah..." I agree.
"So, what are you saying?" The level is cleared now, which is a shame; I'm pretty keen to avoid paying for the full version.
"Let's just be friends, okay?"
Dream lived.