Golf As Dream Machine

Cover for Journal 4



During the years when I was playing a lot of serious golf I often had dreams about the game, not the conventional wide-eyed dreams of winning the US Open but real dreams, those that creep in on you in the dark of nights abed. Two were recurrent. In one the grips on my clubs were too thick and I couldn't get a proper hold on them. The other was the more dramatic. I have a crucial shot to play but I am in a very small room, so small that I can't even start my backswing; the wall is right there behind me. What's more, even if I could get the club back, I would have to hit the ball through a very small window and then down a narrow tree-lined lane to some light at the very far end of the tunnel....

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