Monica awoke to her gloomy apartment one arm raised in the air holding an imaginary trophy the sound of applause and voices of praise still resonating in her ears. The sound in her dream of synchronized clapping was in reality the alarm clock. She groaned, "Why did it have to ring right when she was receiving an award for--something-- and she had been experiencing the thrill and exhilaration of having gained fame.
As she pulled out of the parking lot the feeling of fame still clung to her conscious mind. It had seemed so real! but what had it been for?
A glance at her gas gauge cause her to groan. She resignedly pulled into the station, filled up and stepped in line to pay. While there, she decided she would make her monthly lottery ticket purchase. She grabbed it immediately and scratched it off echoes of applause ringing in her ears. Maybe this was it!
"NOt a winner," the clerk declared. The applause instantly ceased.
On her way out she defectedly tossed it in the trash. A man in tattered clothing scooped it up and asked the clerk to read the numbers again.
As Monica pulled away from the pump she was astonished to see a raggedy man standing on the step waving what had been her ticket announcing to the world that he had just won a million dollars.
Stunned and confused she pulled into traffic shaking her head. Apparently dreams of fame did not translate well into real life. But maybe she hadn't yet found whatever was going to make her famous.
She stopped at the grocery store to grab a few things that, as always, turned into several. As she stood in the checkout line she realized the eldery white haired lady behind her was holding only two things.
"You can go ahead of me," she offered.
As soon as the little old lady's order rang up; balloons cascaded down from the ceiling and loud celebratory music began to play.
"You are our 10,000th customer and you win $10,000!" they proclaimed. A large "Winner" card was placed into her hand and a man from a local TV staion stepped up to interview her.
"How does it feel to be famous?" he asked.
"I know exactly how it feels," Monica grumbled as she stomped out of the store, "Too bad I can't crawl back into my dream."
As she drove away she realized how crazy it had been for her to expect a silly dream to come true. But it had seemed so real--
Suddenly, a motorcylist in front of her, swerved to avoid a jaywalker, lost control, and slid under a parked truck.
Monica slammed on her brakes and scrambled from her car waving her arms frantically and shouting at the top of her lungs, "Help! Help!" at the oncoming traffic.
Four men jumped out of a car and ran over to the truck and lifted it. A fifth man appeared and pulled the injured cyclist out.
Many people had stopped by now and were taking cell phone video of the rescue as it unfolded. There was even a local news station that had pulled over and rushed out to interview the "heroes." Sirens screamed in the distance as Monica stood in line to give her account of the part she had played in saving the man's life--surely this was it--she was to realize a little bit of fame yet. But the man in front of her was claiming he had seen the accident first and he had flagged down traffic
The interviewer now turned and ran off as the ambulance arrived. The sound of applause and the warm wonderful feelin gof fame becamea faint echo in her soul.
Last stop the super mart--she walked down an isle feeling totally dejected when suddenly a small voice cried--"Mrs. Crandall!" she turned to see one of her daycare children headed toward her arms spread wide for a hug.
She bent down and hugged him.
"I really. really love you," he exclaimed.
"Your quite famous at our house," his mother said as she came to stand behind him. "He talks about you and those wonderful stories you tell all of the time."
As Monica walked away smiling a feeling of exhilaration swept over her and she could hear the applause again quite loudly sounding in her ears.
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