Last night I dreamt I was Cyrano DeBergerac.

In my dream, I was walking through Central Park when I came across a traveling band of actors.  They asked their audience, “We need someone to play Cyrano DeBergerac!  Anyone willing to take up the challenge?”  I stepped forward and said, “I’ll do it!  I’ll play Cyrano!”  One of the actors laughed.  “Your nose is too beautiful.”  I replied, “All I need is some papier-mâché, glue, and tan paint!”  In a few minutes, I had my own Cyrano nose.  The director asked me, “Can you duel?”  I said I practiced ken-jutsu.  They handed a stage sword to me and we went through some forms… slowly.  The actors said I was quite good at blocking, parrying, striking and thrusting.  I was also expected to sing.  For the life of me, I could actually sing in the dream!

The play started, and I was allowed to read directly from the text while I handled the sword with my left hand.  I performed the “Then, as I end the refrain, thrust home!” scene.  Everyone laughed and cheered for me.  I romanced Roxane through my handsome suitor proxy, Christian de Neuvillette.  I was involved in other duels.  When I - as Cyrano - was dealt a mortal wound, I confessed my love for Roxane and died in the arms of my compatriots.   

Everyone applauded my death scene.  I bowed with the cast.  Then I found myself walking between 7th Avenue and West 57th.  Someone called out, “Who was our Cyrano?  We need our Cyrano!”  There was a newspaper stand with a newspaper bearing the front page headline, “WHERE IS CYRANO?”

Then I woke up.  My nose was well proportioned, but my ego was deflated.

-  JJB