I had a dream last night that I was the first woman to play in the major leagues. I was hitting second in the lineup, in front of Hideki Matsui, with Jason Giambi at cleanup. The Yankees, of course. At no point in the dream did I get an explanation of how I had gotten there or why me. In the way of dream logic, that's just the way things were.

We were playing in a stadium that looked kind of like Jacob's Field in Cleveland. I have never been to Jacob's Field, so this was the way I *think* it looks at the Jake, based on highlights I've seen on Sportscenter. It also looked a little like Oriole Park at Camden Yards. Red brick, green girders, green grass.

Our dugout was the third base dugout and I remember looking up from the on deck circle at the scoreboard, which seemed like it was a million miles away in center field. Maybe it looked a little like Edison Field, too.

So I'm holding my little aluminum bat in the on deck circle. Matsui walks, and I know I will be called upon to bunt. As I go toward the plate, Joe Torre comes out of the dugout to have a discussion with the home plate umpire. For some reason in this dream it is Ed Rapuano behind the plate. I have never met Ed Rapuano--in fact I don't know what he looks like behind the mask. In the dream he keeps the mask on. It turns out there is some technical rule under discussion because I may bunt. Apparently there is some obscure rule that says if they can prove I can bunt, Matsui should be awarded second and I can go back to the bench.

In the way of dreams, this all seems completely normal. Rapuano decides he needs proof I can bunt, and hands me a rolled up newspaper to demonstrate my bunting stance. I take my stance in the batter's box, wondering why it is they don't just let me put the bunt down and get on with it. They then decide I should go ahead with the at bat.

I dig into the right handed batters box and pivot toward the pitcher. The first pitch comes toward me and then disappears before it touches the bat, like Nightcrawler in the X-Men movie. It reappears in the catcher's mitt. Strike. Hmm, I'm thinking. This could be trickier than I thought. The second pitch comes, again it disappears, again it is a strike. I look down the third base line and Matsui is taking his lead.

Oh, did I forget to mention? For some reason this game we're running the bases in the opposite direction. It all seems totally normal. Righty pitcher on the mound--don't know who. He kicks and deals... this time I can see the ball is going to fly high and wide, in fact, it looks like the catcher will have to jump up to catch it. I swing and miss and the ball goes to the backstop and I run to first base, waving to Matsui "go! go!" all the while. Matsui goes all the way to first, which is third since we're going backwards, and I find myself on base. See, I swung and missed on 0-2, which means I struck out, but reached on the passed ball...

Later I am in the clubhouse and the game is still going on. I've gone to relieve myself and I'm hoping no one walks in on me while I'm doing it. Geez, I'm thinking. Pretty soon they'll have to get around to putting ladies' rooms in to the locker rooms. From the stall where I am sitting I can see through the clubhouse to a doorway into the dugout. Giambi is sitting there on the end of the bench, wearing a dark blue field jacket, watching the action. That's the last thing I remember.

What does this dream mean? I suppose if you want to get semiotic about it, the dream represents the powerlessness of the female athlete in male-dominated sports. You'll see a woman in the majors as soon as they start running the bases backwards. I think that might be reading too much into it, though, don't you? I think the dream means exactly one thing: I'm thinking about baseball a whole lot, even when I'm asleep.