It was the Christmas of sixth grade when I briefly lived a dream. First I smoked a stolen cigarette and split two-and-a-half beers with Craig and Michael at Craig’s family Christmas party. Mischief was our guide after that, and we snuck outside to march like outlaws through the streets. The blue-lighted house was irresistible not because we were vandals but because there were so many blue light bulbs that we knew would break like bombs. We filled our pockets, walked off the lawn, and watched a man with a pool cue jump out of his car, screaming, “Empty your pockets!” Good outlaws would have run. We dumped our grenades on the grass. At the front door of the blue-lighted house the pool cue vigilante ordered a tired lady in a robe, “Call the police.” Sniffles from Craig and Michael exploded into tears, and though I tried to join in I couldn’t convince myself. I turned away to look at the stars while Craig sobbed into prayer. “Oh God, please, I’m sorry. Please God, let me go. Oh God, please let me go to the bathroom.” I was out of control, giggling wildly, shoulders shaking, unable to breathe, and I prayed my own silent prayer. “Oh God, please, I’m sorry. Please God, let them think I’m crying.” The police led us through a gauntlet of adult disdain in the crowded Christmas party. But the admiration I saw on the faces of Craig’s older brother and sister made my heart swell with pride. I was on top of the world under guard of the cops and Craig’s admonishing mother. My God, it was great… until my dad burst in with parental fury and mortified my pride. In those days I dreamed how cool and free life would be if I was a troubled youth, and faking sleep that next morning I thought my fate was decided. Now I’d get a pocketknife, learn to steal, get a scar on my face, run away from home in a year or two. Instead a plea bargain was struck, the price of the light bulbs (five dollars from each) and letters of apology to the tired lady and the owner of the pool cue. I even got time off for good behavior from the sentence handed down by my parents. The ease of the punishment was unusually cruel, dissolving my dream back to fantasy. But I’d never forget that moment, the lifetime I’d lived in the looks on the faces of Craig’s older brother and sister.