I graduated in 1997. My school was pretty ghetto, riots and stuff like that. My senior year I was on the football team, practiced EVERYDAY, (even broke my hand,) with the understanding that I wouldn’t get to play because my grades were bad. I was supposed to be the starting guard/. My team depended on me. I let my teammates, coaches, my parents and myself down. I picked my grades up, and I thought I’d play the last two games. Didn’t happen. So for about thirteen years after I graduated, I had been having recurring dreams of high school. In my dream I’m walking down the hallways of my HS, and it’s empty. Everyone is out at a football rally, and I’m walking the halls by myself, with a sad song playing in the background. And everytime I’d wake up I’d feel depressed and sad because I left so much potential in high school. I’d feel sick to my stomach and sad for the first few hours. I also lost contact with all my good friends. We went down different paths in life. Some ended up in rehab, prison, or dead. For the grace of God and my family, I turned out pretty well. I stopped having those dreams about five years ago, after I accomplished my childhood dream of becoming a pilot. Sometimes I look back and wonder about not getting to play. It was a tough lesson, one that I’ve never forgotten. So, if you’re having similar dreams, you better get on the ball and go at life with everything you have. Becoming a pilot was my second chance at living up to my expectations. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, even a senior year of football.