The Nintendo that never was
The mind can be a cruel thing. The most disappointed I have ever been after waking up from dreaming was when I was around nine-years-old. It was Easter in the real world, and in my dream my mum had arranged an Easter egg hunt, only instead of Easter eggs she had hidden a Nintendo Entertainment System and a number of NES games around mine and my brother’s bedroom. I was overjoyed at the prospect of finding a NES, and sure enough, I opened my sock drawer to be greeted by a brand new copy of Super Mario Bros. It was a fantastic moment, and one that had been a long time coming because my friend had had a Sega Mastersystem for some time already. All I had in the real world were those little LCD games that have a lifespan of around two days before children get bored.
I eventually found my NES under my bed and was ecstatic that my desires had come true. I would be the envy of my friends, and I would have a kickass games console in my own bedroom, or in the living room at least (where there was a TV). It all came crashing down as I woke up. The disappointment was immense. I had held a NES in my hands; it had been mine; but alas, it was just a dream.
A child’s own fantasies can result in the most bitter of disappointments, but this time the disappointment was created entirely by the child himself.
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