I was on a nice, big, breezy golf course; it felt so good to be there. I was going to play a game of golf and I was even thinking about becoming a professional golfer. No, it was more than just thinking. I had actually decided I was going to devote my life to playing golf. It seemed a little strange to me, because I used to view the game as being rather frivolous. But now I saw a certain beauty in the joy of taking big, sweeping swings of the club and the vigors of the exercise involved.

Someone else and I had already begun a game; I walked over to my ball. The fairway stretched out before me; indeed it would be exhilarating to knock my ball down through there. It was quite pleasant out here. Trees abounded along the edge of the course.

Only when I walked up to my ball did I realize there was a problem. The ball was lying in front of part of a large root of a tree sticking out above the ground. It wasn't going to be possible to take my grandiose swing after all, because I would merely hit the root. It looked as if I would only be able to just clip the top of the ball with my club and knock it a few meters away from the root.

So I hit the ball a short distance and then walked over to it again. Now I had another problem. A man was lying on the fairway and the ball was behind him. I got it in my mind that now I was going to have to also hit the man and drive him along with my ball the rest of the way. That was going to be extremely difficult. It made me a bit angry to think I was going to have to be driving this man along. It was so discouraging, I was thinking about just giving up the game entirely. The idea of playing golf professionally was less and less appealing to me.