Except that for some reason my work was hanging from the ceiling.
It was either a prank or I won some kind of contest, I wasn't sure, but it was kind of an honor and the other artists were high-fiving me, so that was good. But then I had the problem of needing the work that was on the ceiling (it was a sketch) for a demonstration. It was a 20 or 30 foot ceiling. So while everyone was kind of laughing and teasing me jocularly about how I was going to get it down, I was getting more and more worried.
So I said fuck it and decided to jump up there. I tried once and it was not much higher than I jump in real life, and everyone laughed like I was just making a silly joke. Of course I couldn't get that paper, they thought. It made me even more resolute to get it myself rather than wait for help.
I jumped again, and this time I jumped pretty high. My feet were far above everyone's heads. They stopped laughing. But I still didn't get my sketch.
So I jumped again. This time I jumped so high my fingers touched the ceiling, but just barely, and I didn't get my sketch. I was attracting a crowd who were getting pretty excited about my awesome jumping skills, some of them clapping or whooping and some of them just staring open-mouthed.
I jumped one more time and this time I pulled my sketch off the ceiling, but I didn't quite get a grip on it, and it went flying around all over the place the way paper does when you try to throw it, back and forth slicing through the air currents. I was so determined to get it this time though that my willpower alone kept me aloft and I could control my fall back down enough to chase after the paper--but I still wasn't agile or fast enough to catch it as it whipped past me one way and then another and I continued to fall slowly back down.
So, my obsession with getting my paper back now consuming my whole being, I thrust my hand out and sent my will out and fucking ORDERED that paper to come back to me. And just as I crashed back to the floor, this time just falling rather than landing on my feet, the sketch flew into my hand at the last second so when my hand hit the floor I pinned it down and it was MINE.
Everyone around cheered, and I had the secret satisfaction knowing that while they thought the paper landed under my hand by chance, I had made my will into a physical force and MADE the paper come to me.
In celebration, my friend Ryan gave me a little box of differently-colored clay and little clay things he'd made, and then Tony and Ryan and I all made little dudes out of clay and little weapons and helmets for them and it was fun.