Some other people and I were playing basketball in front of spectators. Everyone on the court seemed young, in their early teens, and I was uncertain who I was supposed to be guarding on the other team. I didn't want to guard the smallest players, so I picked out a gangly, black-haired fellow about as tall as I.

Finally I got the ball and shot it toward the basket. The ball hit the rim, bounced high into the air, and came down through the basket. I was proud of myself and raised my right hand clenched in a fist into the air, as if I had really done something.

I soon found that many more people had crowded onto the court. A man standing next to me (who I realized was the principal of the high school where we were playing) had the ball. When he tried to shoot the ball, I raised my hand over him and blocked him. But when I realized no one else was trying to block his shot, I took away my hand and let him shoot. He shot and made the basket. I looked around and saw that a fellow next to me was giving me a knowing smile, as if I had done the right thing by not blocking the principal's shot. I realized that even though I could have blocked the shot, it was wiser not to have done it.

More and more people crowded onto the floor. Finally so many people pressed against me, I couldn't even move. My legs went limp, but I still remained upright, and was carried along as the crowd began to move. It was almost as if I was floating in water.

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