I recently received the following great email from someone I have never met:
Just thought I'd drop a note to let you know that you made a cameo in one of my dreams last night (weird, I know). Apparently, in my dream, you used to be a middle reliever for the Atlanta Braves before quitting to become a writer (100% true story). You were in the league for a few years, had a live arm (fastball topped out at 96, 97 mph) and a great slider, but you've got no control. You gotta work on that.
I'm apparently in the "dream world" now, people, so consider this your fair warning...although I'll probably just use my razor-like fingernails for spearing pickles from jars or making hand puppets with two black olives for eyes.