John Henson slept fitfully, tossing and turning in his bed. Within the deepest confines of his brain, a dream played out its haunting plotline…
——————–
From the fog emerged a dark, tall figure. The grey murk made it impossible to distinguish the man until he walked right up to John.
“Wilt! Why are you here?”
Wilt Chamberlain, appearing much the same as he did during his playing days, laughed throatily. “The same reason that anything happens in a dream, son. To grant you insight. To grant you wisdom!”
John did not share in the laughter. “I do not understand. What is that you wish to tell me?”
Wagging his finger, Wilt answered, “This is your dream, son. Think. What is it that you wish to know from me? It’s somewhere, here, stored in the archives of your mind.”
Suddenly, a multitude of bookcases appeared next to where the two giants stood. As gray wisps of fog swirled around them, John began to pull books off the shelves, paging through endless pages of his memories. After several minutes, John turned to the hall-of-famer and apologized, “Sorry this is taking so long. None of these books have titles, nothing to help me identify the contents within!”
Wilt laughed again. “Here, let me help you out.” Grabbing a blue-bound tome from a shelf, Wilt opened it to a specific page and handed it back to John.
On the paper, in the scrawl of his twelve-year-old self, was written a thought which John now remembered having after an especially dominant game:
“Forty points, wow! I was on top of my game tonight. But how could Wilt average fifty over a season? That’s impossible!”
So that was why Wilt had been summoned to the dreamscape. John looked back up at this idol, awaiting the answer.
“It’s true. Averaging fifty points and twenty-five rebounds over an entire NBA season is the greatest individual season in the history of professional basketball. And now, I will tell you the secret to my success, so that you may replicate and exceed my accomplishments.”
John was nearly shaking with excitement. In the waking world, his body was sheened with sweat and he clutched the blankets hard to his body. “Yes, Wilt. Shine your light upon my eyes so that they may see!”
Wilt continued, “It is simply a matter of being more physically capable than your opponents. I was the best athlete in the NBA by far. I was taller and faster – with those advantages, my basketball skills were almost inconsequential. If you played in that era, you would average numbers similar to mine. Even Ryan Hollins would have been in all-star in those days.”
Disappointment nearly brought John to his knees. “But…you’re the greatest of all time. And you’re saying that…that you’d be only average in today’s league?”
Looking sadly at his pupil, Wilt responded, “Yes. I am a product of my time.” He turned away somberly. “But don’t let that stop you, son. You are destined for great things.” With those final words, Wilt began to walk away, back into the mists of the dream.
“Wait! Wilt, wait!” John called, but it was too late; Wilt was gone.
——————-
Waking up violently to the rising of the sun, John realized he had tears in his eyes. Wiping them away, he pondered the meaning of it all. Quickly, he came to peace with the revelations of his dreaming mind.
“I could have easily dominated the 1960’s.” he said to himself. “But I will not let that stop me from dominating the 2010’s.”