when dreams become reality...round three part one...Mike Extreme

(A haze drapes down over his eyes. He sees nothing but the occasional foray of wonderful colors. What does it all mean to him? Not even he, the person who knows him best, can recognize what this sequence of dreams means to him. It has been the same every night for the past week. Ever since he won his second round match in the Tournament of Champions, his mind has been playing the same dream…over, and over again. Not much is visible to him. He sits there, and is surrounded by darkness. Suddenly, a small light ignites a far distance away from him. It grows brighter, and seems to be moving closer to him. He reaches out with both hands, and just then, it moves away. He pulls his hands back shamefully. But why? The light now grows dimmer. It moves farther away. The haze settles in, and before he knows it, he’s surrounded by a heavy fog.)

(Ern awakens from his troubled slumber and quickly leans up in bed. He’s been plagued by a plethora of colorful, confusing dreams. Ern looks to his night table to the right of his bed….1:39AM….the fifth time he’s gotten up tonight. Using the back of his right hand, he wipes away a wealth of sweat that has beaded up around his brow. He blinks his eyes, for the sweat now drips into them, stinging them. They are blood shot, not because of the sweat, but because of his lack of sleep. Why has his body been acting this way? Why has it been behaving in such an odd manner? These questions float around in his head, but he can’t pin point an answer to any of them. Ern takes off his white T-shirt. The air conditioning in his house is not enough to keep him cool. His mind still races with random thoughts, as his heart pounds away, rushing the blood throughout his body. Ern sits up on the side of the bed, his feet now touching the floor. He throws off his white sheet and gets up. Maybe that pizza he had before he went to sleep had something to do with it. They say you shouldn’t eat too much before you go to bed. But who the hell are “they” to tell you what to do?)

BigErn: Fuck them…

(He cusses to himself. Ern walks around his room, pacing back and forth. He thinks to himself.)

BigErn: Maybe a nice drive will do….

(Ern walks over to his night table and snatches up the keys to his pick up truck. He walks over to his dresser and throws on some clothes. A black tank top, khaki shorts, and some white sweat socks. Ern sits down at the side of his bed again, and puts his sneakers on. He heads out of his bedroom and down a hallway, reaching the top of a flight of stairs. He whistles as he heads down the stairs and into yet another hallway. Ern walks toward his front door, and exits his house. He locks it behind him. He walks across his porch, and then down some more stairs. As he bounds down a cement walk way leading to his driveway, he looks up to the starry sky. The moon is awfully dim tonight. Is it waxing or waning? Apparently seventh grade science class has slipped his mind for the moment. He takes note of several constellations. They are easily recognizable on a cloudless night such as this one. He strolls down the walkway and hangs a right, up his drive. He heads over to his black pick up truck and climbs in. Starting the engine, he feels a bit better already. BigErn backs the truck up and turns it around. He then heads down his driveway, and takes a right.)

(Driving always did make him feel better. There was something about rolling down those windows, and allowing that cool breeze to blow through his hair. Or maybe it had something to do with the classic rock music he liked to blast as he rode down the street. Maybe it was both. Whatever the case may be, Ern was at ease when he was on the road, as if nothing could trouble him. Living the life of a professional wrestler was never easy for him. In a business like wrestling, anything can, and more than likely, will happen. He’d been screwed around with more times than he could ever imagine. On the other hand, he had attained more success than he could have ever dreamed of. So what was the matter? Stress. That’s what the matter was. Stress. Wrestling week in and week out all yearlong was a burden on the body. He was only awarded through paychecks, and gleaming smiles of each and every one of his fans after his match. Even when he lost, they were there to cheer him on, giving him a standing ovation no matter where he was. But wrestling for SmackCCW wasn’t the only thing on his mind. No, not in the least. Where did his concern lie? Why, in the Tournament of Champions, of course. He had won his second round match up, by a small margin. It didn’t matter to him how much he won by, he just wanted to make sure he won. Ern knew when he entered the second round it wasn’t going to be easy, but at the same time, he was confident in his ability to defeat Percy Snow. But the second round has come and gone. BigErn was victorious once again, but now he has to focus on the third round…)

BigErn: That’s where my trouble lies….

(Yes indeed. Maybe this third round match up was the cause of his dreams. Those dreams, seemingly so irrelevant, but at the same time, his gut instinct told him that meant something of major significance. What could that light symbolize? Perhaps the one at the end of a long tunnel?)

BigErn(to himself): That’s gotta be it. The light at the end of the tunnel. I can almost see it now, my coronation as the winner of this tournament. But at what price? I’ll have to put my body on the line in order to attain ultimate success. This guy, Mike Extreme, he’s good, real good. I’ve seen his stuff, I’ve been witness to his matches…this third round match will certainly be a testament to my ability in the ring. Do I have what it takes to take out a living legend? I guess only time will tell. I’ve never doubted myself, nor would I ever think of doing so. But Mike Extreme is different from anybody I’ve faced thus far in the tournament. My first round opponent was a joke, my second round opponent was a game….this isn’t a game anymore. Only 32 competitors are left, and Mike Extreme is one of the better ones. From what I’ve heard, and from what I’ve seen, he has everything it takes to win this thing. I guess it just comes down to who wants it more. I’ve wanted that title of Tournament Winner ever since I set foot in the first tournament. I have desperately seeked out success, barreling through opponents that I never thought I’d ever face. I was knocked out in the elite eight in the first tournament. Will history repeat itself? How can I only make it this far? I know every guy goes into this thing telling himself, “I’m going to win this, simply because I can”. I said the same, but it’s not that easy. Even I, renowned for being arguably the toughest son of a bitch on the wrestling circuit today, will have my troubles in this tournament. This time, all bets are off. I have proven myself to everybody already….I’ve proven that you don’t need to be a big name from a big time federation to make it in this tournament….I’ve proven that you just can’t underestimate people like me. People like me...people who will give it their all.…people who will devote each and every waking moment to unearthing a strategy in order to win this thing. I can feel it no, though. It’s starting to get to me. Mike Extreme is starting to get to me, and I’m not even standing face to face with him in the ring yet. If I let this happen, then the light at the end of the tunnel disappears, just like in my dreams. But if I somehow overcome this, then I will attain that greatness I have been seeking for so long. I’ll embrace the light, just as I almost do in every dream. I will reach out, and take what is rightfully mine….

(BigErn turns his truck around at the nearest intersection. Luckily for him the roads of Orange, Connecticut are dead at this hour. He speeds back from where he came from, and returns to his quaint little house. BigErn hauls ass up the driveway, and parks his pick up truck. BigErn turns it off and locks the doors as he steps out of his truck. Ern looks up to the sky once again. Admiring the stars in all their glamour and beauty, he takes the moment in, feeling relaxed for only a fraction of his hectic life. BigErn looks down and starts up his walkway, back to his house. )

(Ern reenters his house, locking the front door behind him. He throws his keys on the kitchen table, and then turns on the kitchen light. Ern walks over to the kitchen counter, and takes out a small black journal from under a heavy phone book. Ern walks back to the table and pulls up a chair. He sits down and opens the journal up. It’s something of his that he’s been keeping for some time now. It’s a record of everything that has been going on in his life. He uses this little black journal as a means to relax himself, and soothe his mental wounds. BigErn whips out a black pen from the back pocket of the journal and flips to the nearest empty white page. The words that are about to flow from the pen, are of his soul….they are his feelings, and the only way he can express himself without taking out his frustrations on somebody else.)

BigErn(writing): This is the sixth night in a row I have not been able to sleep. I have found the source of my problems…it rests in my upcoming match in the tournament of champions. I took a drive tonight, perhaps to ease myself. It didn’t do much good, but I felt better than I did before I stepped into my truck. I have been thinking about a lot as of late. Ever since I left Erin’s house last Saturday and beat Percy Snow in the second round of the Tournament of Champions, I haven’t quite been the same. If this is my downfall, it will be Mike Extreme’s key to success. He’s a formidable opponent, one who has me worried. Have I ever worried before? Hell no! Then why start now? I don’t know anymore. I have been utterly confused since my divorce from Stacy. She still plays on my mind, even though I haven’t seen her in weeks. She’s only a fuel that adds to the fire burning within me. I try to focus on my match, but Stacy ceases to leave my mind. The present state of SmackCCW and the corporate buy out by the sWo, isn’t exactly helping either. But right now, I can’t even think about winning back my world championship. I am the only man in this tournament who had the guts to step up and represent Smack:CCW. I have to show the big boys what we’re all about. There is just too much going on right now. I took time off a damn long time ago, but I vowed never to do it again, not even if the stakes were this high. I’m just going to have to suck it all up, and go out there. I’m going to have to do the best I can. If what I have to offer isn’t good enough, then maybe I should reconsider this whole career thing….

(BigErn sits back in his chair, and fiddles with his pen. The thought of retirement had crossed his mind before. But at the age of 29?! It was a ridiculous consideration.)

BigErn(writing): No, I never could do that, not until I’m about 35 anyway. I’m in my prime….but hell, if this is my top, then it’s all down hill from here. Have I lost it? Is every bit of wrestling talent in my body starting to wear thin? I’d like to say no, but my critics beg to differ. If I constantly allow my mind to get the better of me, then the answer is yes, I will eventual fall from grace. I have to control this thing….I have to keep a good head about myself. I think winning the third round of the Tournament of Champions will clear a lot of things up. But then again, the competition only gets stiffer from here on in. What the hell is wrong with me? I think I need some rest. Resting my weary head would probably do the trick. Tomorrow is a new day, much better than today. Tomorrow, I start anew, and engage in my eventual rise to greatness within the tournament. I will win the third round…simply because….I must.

(With that, BigErn drops his pen down onto his open journal. He closes up the small book and snaps it shut. BigErn pushes it toward the middle of the kitchen table and rubs his tired eyes. Bags begin to form under them. The loss of sleep is beginning to catch up with him.)

BigErn: I have to catch a good night’s rest before this match up, or else Extreme will have me beat for sure…

(BigErn lifts himself up out of his chair and trudges upstairs, returning to the comfort of his bed…)

TO BE CONTINUED