Another Dream Bites the Dust

As we age we worry sometimes, that perhaps we haven’t lived out our dreams. Even worse, we’re sure we didn’t live out, at minimum, one of our dreams—something we could describe with superlatives. Worst of all, we’re green with hateful envy at those who stole and lived out what would have been our dream-come-true. Mine was to become the worst doctor in world, then kill the most famous and beloved entertainer in the world. Que sera, sera. Now what will I be?